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; SHR ;l >ld and nkw 

A.Ni FR I'ul.Ms 



THOMAS HEVf-i 



' AKMKK U.C L. 



T'lRliN-rr. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



THOMAS DEVEY JERMYN FARMER, D.C.L. 



TORONTO 

WILLIAM BRIGGS 

1913 



*7 5T 



152939 



Copyrisht, Canada, 1913, by 
Thomas devet jxrhtn FAaHKR 



TO THE MEMORY 



CJlrnw lUnatrimtB CJmo 

WBO 

"OAZIKO ON NATURE'S NAKED LOVELINESS" AND 

FOLLOWING HER IN SINGLENESS OF HEART 

REVIVED AND RESTORED THE PURITY OP ENOLISH POETRY 

AND WHOSE DUST FOREVER HALLOWS 
TESTACCIO'S HILL AT ROME. 

AN OBSCURE AND UNWORTHY DISCIPLE 

DEDICATES 

THESE HUMBLE EFFORTS 



PREFACE 



The following stanzas entitled " SHRiNes Old 
AND New," and many of the short poems which 
follow, were hurriedly put into verse form with 
little or no intention of publication, during a trip 
through South- Western Europe with my family, in 
191 1-12. They are made up of daily casual thoughts 
and ideas which arose h-.ore me, or of incidents 
which occurred as I travelled, and of impressions 
formed concerning some of the social, political, and 
historical conditions of the people with whom, and 
the places where, 1 happened to be when I wrote 
them. 

Incidentally the larger work refers to the lives 
works, characters, and last resting-places of many 
of the English, and a few of the other European 
poets. 

No particular effort was made to select for my 
theme, as I gathered it together, scenes or personages 



PREFACE 



of momentous importance, so that while some of 
the matters, places and individuals referred to here 
will be of world-wide repute and interest, others will 
be merely local, and of no public or general concern. 

Wherever I have touched upon social or political 
conditions as they occurred to me at the time, I have 
endeavored to be as fair in my critici ti of one class 
of society, or of the body politic, as of the other, 
and have tried to show with impartiality the weak- 
nesses and errors of each extreme of thought as I 
saw them. And where conditions existed that were 
to my mind foreign to the genius of a free people, 
or out of touch with the modem spirit of our times, 
I have not hesitated to condemn, and, to the best of 
my power, to expose them. 

I fear that there may be here and there found in 
these pages what the kindly critic may term " plati- 
tude," or what the less indulgent and more relent- 
less one may place in the even worse category of 
" farrago," or " banality " ; that the language may 
be found commonpla:e, and the literary effort and 
finish lacking in that spontaneity, brilliancy and 
depth of thought which make for true poetry. It 
may be, too, that a lack of continuity may be de- 
6 



PREFACE 

tected in places in the larger poem, and that it may 
be condemned by the exacting reader on the ground 
of transiliency. My only excuse for all these failings 
must be that most of what now appears for the first 
'me m print was hastily and disconnectedly written 
"along the way," as it were, with many interrup- 
tions, httle if any quiet, no bibliothecal assistance, 
and with many counter-attractions to divert the 
mmd. Usually the thoughts of the day were hur- 
riedly gathered up the same night, and took the form 
of a stanza carelessly put together the next morn- 
ing, and thus it has remained until now. 

In "Shrines Old and ''Tew " I have adopted the 
Spenserian nine-line stanza, a foim used by the most 
famous Italian poets, by Lord Bvron in "Childe 
Harold," also by Shelley and Thomson, and some 
others of the best English poets; although, on the 
other hand, ridiculed in verse by Pope. Admitting, 
as It does, of every variety of thought— the droll, the 
pathetic, the descriptive, the sentimental, the tender 
or the satirical— I deemed it the best adapted and the 
easiest adjusted to a work like this, which of neces- 
sity spreads itself over many regions, includes such a 
variety of subject, incident, person and locality, and 
7 



PREFACE 

necMsitates, too, such frequent and sudden leaps 
from one particular line of thought to an entirely 
different one. 

An apology may also be in order here to the 
reader for the great length of "Shrines Old and 
New," and for the inclusion of such an apparent 
medley of subject-matter under one title. The aim 
of modem writers is, I know, to be brief if they 
wish to be popular, but a glance at the index will 
show tl«it each subject dwelt upon in the major poem 
appears there under a separate heading, and thus can 
be readily found without necessitating what might 
prove to be a tedious perusal of the whole work. 

Some of my friends have flattered me by saying 
that my verses (with the illustrations I have gathered 
as I travelled) are worthy of publication, so I have 
yielded to the temptation to embody the long poem 
along with some of my shorter efforts in the form 
of a volume. 

Whatever frailties and blemishes in thought and 
diction or in literary and artistic finish (and they are 
many) the work may contain, I hope the critic will 
overlook. To the pedestal of the lofty and accom- 
plished poet deeply versed in the lore of the classics 
8 



PREFACE 

and of mythology, and in the romance of medixval 
times— whose life-e£Forts have been chiefly or entirely 
devoted to the m-ise, and who has been crowned with 
success and fame, and the applause and reverence 
of his fellows— I dare not presume, and cannot hope 
to attain. The vicissitudes and cares, the worries 
and exactions, of a busy but all the time to me soul- 
starving and distasteful professional life, have, no 
doubt, left their traces in a paucity of poetic thought 
and language and a narrowness of poetic vision, and 
have prevented the full development of any smiU 
talent which might have been inherent in me for 
litenry study or poetic pursuits, until a very recent 
period, and one usually too late in life to allow of 
much being accomplished along the present lines. 

And so, if I have here and there clothed some old 
but imperishable truth in a new dress, or expressed 
some simple thought in befitting language, if I may 
have struck some happy expression, some har- 
monious chord, or if any of my readers may find 
somewhere between the covers of this little book 
some ennobling or inspiring sentiment, some vivid 
historical description, some appropriate word-paint- 
ing, some high ideal outlined, some chaste or grace- 

9 



PREFACE 

ful imager, . or even some faint suggestion of any- 
thing pertaining to the lofty, the grand or the subhme 
in life and will with charity overlook my many 
shortcomings for the rest, I will feel with gratitude 
that my feeble efforts and aims have not gone 
entirely unrewarded. 

T. D. J. F. 

Wmning, Novtmbtr, m'- 



10 



PR^•.^•^c^. 

fiii ii!ii(K»T>, ■'• rvrti v.niir ftMit sit);(;''ition of any- 
thiin; [M-rtaiiiint; m tlif l..fl\ tin uraml or the mitilitiir 
'II lite, and will with cHanf verl.iok my many 
>lii>iio>niinKs fur the rest, i wiU twi wuh gratitude 
that my feeble efforts .mil aims Uiv i..| kdiic 
entirelv iinrewardeil. 



T. U.J. I'. 



H'inmftg. Sotfr^ir. IVI'' 




CONTENTS 



_ , PACK 

Preface 

5 

SHRINES OLD AND NEW. 
Canada ... 

North Shore of Uke Superior, Muskoka, etc - . ai 
Barrie ... 

Toronto - - . . 

"... 2* 

Wentworth Scenery . - ._ . . _ ^ 

The Beauties and Truths of Nature - - . . 30 

Ottawa and Montreal - . . . 

Quebec ' ^ 

The Ocean .... " " " 3i 

- 3» 

Th« Is« of Man ... 

- 36 

Ekgiand— - . . . . 

First Impressions from the Train . - . . „ 

I^ndon 

Its Many Peoples, Attractions and Mighty Commerce 2 

Westminster Abbey 

The Coronation . . . . _ 
Goldsmith, Johnson and Ye Old Cheshire Cheese Inn Af 
St. Paul's Cathe-irs! ... ^ 

Pope ... . - - - 47 

"■---- 48 
13 



CONTENTS 

Encland (CotHmued)— pAct 

Buckinghamshire j3 

Her Scholars, Martyrs and Statesmen - - - 53 

The Gunpowder Plot 54 

Gray - 55 

Cowper and Dryden jg 

Oxford and Blenheim 61 

Shakespeare --------6a 

Shropshire ------- .g^ 

The Wrekin and Apley 69 

The Ascendency of the Plutocrat - - - - 70 
Decline of the Church and the Aristocracy - - 71 

Milton „ 

The Jew ^j 

The English Lake Country yg 

Wordsworth yg 

The Curse of the Toll System and the " Perquisited 

Varlet" go 

Devonshire - - - - - _ _ -112 

Waiss— ,. 

74 
Snowdon --------_ y^ 

Lloyd George and Dissent 77 

Carnarvon „ 

Conway Castle -g 

Lake Vernwy and The Vale of Clwyd - - - 79 

SCOTIAND— o, 

Ayr and Burns ...g. 

The Trossachs ...g. 

14 



CONTENTS 

Scohand (Continued)— 

Edinburgh --...__ 

Mary, Queen of Scots g^ 

The Isles and the West Coast - - . „ 

Oban ' 

The McLeod-Macdonald Feud and Massacre - . a. 
Skye - ^ 

The Blight of Scotch Landlordism - - - . ^ 

Her Sons Expatriated - •-..., 

The Old Lord and the New 

Inverness --____ 

CuUoden 

The Caledonian Canal --..._ 

Ben Nevis - - - 

103 

IUI,AHD — - . . _ _ 

Dublin and Surroundings '"^ 

St. Patrick's Cathedral. Swift, Stella, etc. - -" '^ 

Killamey _ 

Blarney Castle - - . . " - - 109 

Cork . . . - - - - no 

- 112 

F«ANCS — 

Paris- . . : : "6 

Versailles - - 116 

The French Revolution 'g 

Napoleon --..._ 

His Ambition, Coronation and Tomb - . . „, 

Hyires and Surroundings ^ 

Giens and Costebelle 

- - - 127 



CONTENTS 

Francs (Conliuued)— pao« 

Nice ----.-,__ 132 
The Battle of Flowers ,32 

I"*"- 133 

Genoa ---.._-._ i^j 
Milan Cathedral -----.. 135 
Lake Como ------__ 136 

Venice ,36 

Byron ,40 

Florence .-.-i^ 

Dante ,43 

Michelangelo, Raphael, etc. ----- 143 

Donatello Cemetery - 144 

Poets of Modern Florence ----- 144 

Rome ,48 

Superstition 143 

Tivoli .-150 

The Tarpeian Rock 152 

The Arches of Titns and Severus - - - - 152 

The Grave of Keats 153 

The Grave of Shelley ,54 

Their Memorial Museum ----._ 157 

Easter in Rome 157 

View from the Janiculum Hill J58 

Tasso, His Works, Fall and Death - - - - 158 
The Forum, Coliseum and Pantheon - - - 160 
Italian Farm Life and Scenery - - - - 164 

Vesuvius and Pompeii 165 

Capri 166 

16 



CONTENTS 

ITAIY (Continued)— 

Loss of the Titanic - - . . 
Naples -...__ 
Conclusion - . . 



POEMS AND SONNETS. 



To a Rose - 
Sunset at Hyires - 
At Point Farm - 
\ , lere the Rivers Meet - 
Ancaster - - . . 
Often .... 
The Decline of Chivaliy - 
To a Violet - - . 
Ode to Christmas Day - 
Rainbowland - - . 
Ode to Canada - 
Milan Cathedral 

Ode to Spring - 

To Morning - - _ 

Venice - - . . 

Adversity - _ _ 

The Cataract of Lcdore - 
Live Climbing - . . 
Florence - - . . 
The Canadian Thermopyla 
Two Names at Eton - 
On the Death of Ubouchere 
Napoleon's Tomb - 



PACt 

i66 
167 
168 



- 171 

- 173 

- '73 

- '74 

- 178 

- 183 

- '85 

- 187 

- 188 

- '93 

- 194 

- 196 

- 199 

- 201 
■ 211 
• 212 
' 219 

224 
229 
230 
235 
237 
238 



17 



Westminster Abbey - 

The Water Lily - 

Social Ambition - 

Humility - _ _ 

Charity ... 

The Child and the Motor 

The Poets' Corner 

Henry tabouchere 

Hardship - 

Chatterton 



CONTENTS 














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18 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Portrait of Author - 

Tivoli . . ' " 

The Upper Lake, Killarney - 

"Tie, Ontario . ' " 

Th' p'" °' °^"'°«' K.""«y - ' 

H^s:or--«- 

Th« Tore Cascade. Kiliamey . ! " 
The Forum, Roroe . 

^ir^of:"""^— Cast.: . 

Phxnix Park, Dublin . ' " " " 
Blarney Castle .._""-- 
Paris - . _ ' " - - . 

The Golden Isle, of „: _" " - - 
M'lan Cathedral - " " 

a " - 

'9 



- Fronlispiec, 



PAGS 



- II 

- 22 

- 27 

- 33 

■ 43 

- 49 
- 57 

- 6s 

- 75 

- 81 

- 91 

- 97 

- 107 

- "3 

- 123 

- 129 

137 

145 

•55 

i6i 

169 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



rAcc 

Filli It Ancaiter, Ontario ,75, 

The Grave of Keats at Rome ig. 

The Grave of Shelley at Rome ,97 

Avenue of Palms, Hyires 305 

Sorrento, Italy 213 

Church and Cemetery <.f San Miniato, Florence - - aji 

The Boboli Gardens, Florence 227 

The Tomb of Napoleon - - - - - _ . ^lo 

Arch of Titus, Rome 247 

A Marble Tomb in the Campo Santo at Genoa - - 355 



Shrines Old and New 



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^i\ K.i ix-esn '-piv^nr (fives the best. 



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ass thr. kt^wm, Hea Keewatin's roar. 
' Wilhan. a.T.I l"" -( ,,.,iir loom iii sight 
*t mom, fan . ,,„th Superior's ^hore 

■•■* waves..:.. ^ v)!.,sh the roadi*,! o'er- 

-' Md cl'rt 

'^'"••■'''<1 ''.' ••••me the more 

■ '">'. thesh :. i.I.,,nfv 

•!ni.lation . . ,-, ...lanrf ^^a. 



».» 



Shrines Old and New 



One glorious evening in bright, sunny May, 
With verdure bursting on the prairies round— 

Those unshorn gardens stretching far away. 
For which the speech of England has not found 
A name— I sat me list'ning to the sound 

Of preparation for departure from the West. 
On my first trip to Europe I was bound 

For pleasure, learning, travel, and that rest 

Physicians say an ocean voyage gives the best. 



We're off! and in the darkness of the night 
Pass thro' Kenora, hear Keewatin's roar 
Fort William and Port Arthur loom in sight 
At mom, fair twins of North Superior's shore 
Now waves foam-silver'd splash the roadbed o'er; 
lunnel and cliff in continuity 

Are hurried by; which interests me the more 
1 know not, the shore's wild sublimity 
Or contemplation of this mighty inland sea 



"3 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ni. 

Then a vast stretch of forest, stream and lake. 

Which only foot of beast or Indian trod. 
Here surely man his toil of life may break 

And dwell alone with solitude and God. 

These are the thoughts that o'er one's fancy flood 
For hours, when, past Superior's wide main, 

This great wild stretch so much the senses aw'd. 
I wondered, languid, restless, if the train 
Would ever reach the haunts of man and life again. 



But just as morning breaks the second day. 

The bustling town of Sudbury meets the sight; 
And then I feel the languor slip away 

As all around seems animate and bright. 

And with what new experience of delight 
Does fair Muskoka burst upon the view. 

And Bala, with her pine groves exquisite, 
Waiting the tourist like the lover true. 
Forever charming, and to me forever new. 



SHRINES OLD / VD NEW 



I stayed at Barrie on Lake Simcoe's strand, 

Nestling serene along her sea-green bay; 
A gem of beauty, set in fairyland. 

Fit theme for painter's brush or poet's lay. 

Would that my time allowed a longer stay 
'Mid her enchanted hills and villas, where 

Hours, seeming moments, fled too soon away. 
Was there one spot than all the rest more fair? 
O Barrie, beautiful ! I surely found it there. 



We're in Toronto, with her busy streets, 

Ontario's pride and queenly capital. 
Where law and education have their seats 

And dignity rules monarch over all. 

Here I was tempted to be critical 
O'er street cars that arouse the traveller's ire; 

And wondered in a mood satirical 
Did not her city fathers ever tire 
Of gazing on the ruins of her ancient fire? 



as 



r 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



To native Wentworth then I wander on ; 

Among her verdant slopes my steps I trace. 
There is no spot beneath the glorious sun 

More charming than this restful, hill-crown'd 
place. 

Here near a week ('twas far too short a space) 
I trod old footpaths 'mid her vales and rills, 

Her winding roads, her vistas that embrace 
Dundas's spires, Ancaster's ruined mills, 
And Flamboro's distant wooded azure-tinted hills. 



Spring's first flow'ring hepaticas had left ; 

An emerald veil was spreading on the haws ; 
And trilliums peep'd from round each boulder cleft 

With the pale bloodroot, and a filmy gauze 

Hung o'er the maples, and the green sward was 
Dotted with early dandelion gold ; 

And prickly beech buds glistened on the shaws. 
And all around peer'd longing to unfold 
Their greenery, fern and mandrake struggling thro' 
the mould. 



a6 



SHRINT-- Ol l> \M) \KW 



T(j n.ilivf Weiir.vwith tlii'u ' . •<•• -n , 

.\mong her vcnlant slnpe^ m* -it;* ! r:-('e. 
There is no sp<it licnrath the ^lon-m i, 

More charniinf; than »li:^ resifni. hi!!-. . .mird 
place. 

Here near a week ('twas far too short a space) 
I trod ol^! footpaths "miil her vales and rills. 

Her vi'nchnt' r^iads. her vistas that embrace 
Dunda^':- siiire*. Ancaster's ruined mills. 
And FI,;jii!-.ro's 'livt.'in! v. ni,-d :inire-'i!i><f'! t'ills. 



Spring s hr.-f tit^w ring 1r;..»;. ^s .h > l< i. 

All fttierald '-i-i! ..va.s "|:rei. h^jj oii thr n.iA. . 
And irilli;:ins peep' ; from riM:n.l each tmuldcr cleft 

Wiih tilt- I'ale h!i,odroot, and a tiliny gan^^e 

Hting o'er the maples, and the green s'vard was 
Dotted witli early dandelion gold: 

And prickly beech buds glistened 'm the shivvs. 
And all around jieer'd longin^; !" nnfol! 
Their greenery, fern and niandrr<kr -vront-i-f; thro' 
thr niotikl. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



IX. 

How soft the music of the winnowing wind 
Creeps dreamy thro' these hilly Wentworth 
woods, 

Odorous of May-time, and it leaves behind 
A poetry of stillness. Nought intrudes 
Ut life s mad rush and its vicissitudes. 

How cnsp the freshness of the morning sun- 

^nft""' ^k" 'u'' ••"'" ^''''='' "* "°°"'ide broods, 
Soft soothmg here, o'er tree and brook and stone- 
How sweet the night's aroma when the day is don; 



Wh.e others more bestirring scenes may tempt, 
I fam would satiate my soul with these : 

Th.s rural hfe from public haunt exempt; 
These tongues familiar speaking in the trees: 
These runnmg brooks, nature's rare libraries- 

Stones preach,ngse;.nons; and the genial sprang 
Lendmg her spices to the fecund breeze 

Makmg creation animate, doth bring 

A glad reminder that there's good in everything 



ap 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XI. 

Wherever there is life there beauty is. 

The more one looks on nature the divine 
Is found : e'en in the plant and boulder 'tis. 

These leaves do breathe, this sap mounts as life's 
wine 

At morning's gray or eve's incarnadine. 
And tho' these trees around seem motionless. 

They utter to the poet truths benign. 
He listens, and from nature's vernal dress 
Learns her great universal echo to express. 



xn. 

But time is pressing on, I must away 

From Wentworth's wooded heights and scented 
air 
To Ottawa for one short single day 

To view her stately piles and scenery rare; 

The wonderful maelstrom of Chaudiere; 
The Chateau Laurier, majestic, tall; 

Rockliffe's famed drive and gorgeous landscape 
there. 
Here, too, our sojourn's but a hurried call — 
Our ship lies waiting at her port at Montreal. 



30 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XIII. 

Great modem City, onct French Ville Marie! 

Thou still art leader of Canadian marts. 
Thy trade and commerce drawn from every sea 

Lead all the rest, and from thy port departs 

More shipping than from any other starts 
Of small craft and of huge leviathan. 

Here is McGill, in Medicine and in Arts 
Far famed, and here are to be seen 
Superb Mount Royal, and the rapids of Lachine. 



XIV. 

We're passing old Quebec I What thoughts spring 

The cove of Wolfe, Abram's historic plain. 
What deeds of valor here were given birth 

By Frontenac, Montcalm and brave Champlain! 

I see them stand in fancy once again. 
As their heroic lives the scene recalls; 

And France's battles fight again in vain. 
And lo! to north as evening shadow palls. 
Like bridal veil I welcome Montmorency's Falls 



31 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XV. 

Saint Uwrence widens. With th' approach of day 

1 he narrow homestead of the habitant 
Kecedes; the barren coast line of Gasr,e 

Tells of the Gulf at hand, the river gone; 

Magdalen s isles and lonely Miquelon. 
Sole rehcs of old France's empire grand 

In the New World, we pass, then border on 
The Ancient Colony of Newfoundland, 
With .cebergs sparkling in the sun along her strand 



XVT. 

Hark now! the roll of the abysmal deep. 

Where Neptune reigns unchallenged and alone; 
Wakes w,th .ts roar and lulls again to sleep 
U Kmg on thine unconquerable throne! 
Thy power sublime. Omnipotence thine own. 
Vast, boundless image of Eternity! 
w .1 1 "!?' u' ""^^""^hed, thy caverns all unknown. 
Well hath the Psalmist, wrapp'd in ecstacy 
Likened the judgments of Almighty God to thee. 



SHKf\I.S 



"'.f» >\D MCW 



\\ 



\\v 






f day 



Sain; I..inT.-nrp wi,ifri> 

Tilt- iiaif,,,>v hnt':, I,-, . 
l<ece<K-s : the hane., ,-„«.<, ;;„> ..;,;,..,^ 

Toiu of „..r,„f,H,a„.,. ,„„::.;;.,,. 

^^->>r.Ial.n s,.,les and lonely .M,,j,,Wo„' 
The A„c,en. Colony of New: ,n,„a„j. 



on 



O K.„g on th„u. ,„-ron,|„naMe tf.rone! 

\-a '(.or,7 '"'""'• ••^'""'■'-'"•ce thine , 
\a,, (.oimdless ,map,- of Eternity ! 

Thy depths nn^earehed. thy caverns:,!) 
V\t!l hath the Psalmist, wrappVi I- ., - 
I..k-ened the jndpmcnis of Ahi^Eh.. 



■ >iie; 



':oKf,own, 
■I ('^ tiiee. 



33 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XVII. 

Thou boldest in thy briny cradle bed 

Things that poor mortals cannot contemplate 
And down in thy profoundest depths are bred 

Wonders both living and inanimate. 

To thee is borne what doth contaminate 
From every stream and lake and lesser sea, 

And yet, O Ocean, wide, and deep, and great 
Thou dost, and shalt for all futurity, 
Stand forth the emblem of Divinest purity. 



XVIII. 

And, Ocean, thin» uncheck'd immensity 
Tells in the calm and in the hurricane 

Of that Great Ruler of the winds and sea 
Who stills the waves and curbs the wat'ry main 
Against whose will thy billows strike in vain- 

He only more than thee inscrutable ; 
He the Controller of thy boundless plain; 

And when thy breakers thunder and appal. 

Out of the mighty deep, O Lord, to Thee I call 



35 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XIX. 

But I have dwelt enough, O deep, on thee, 
Thine awful space, thy fury, and thy moan; 

Grand teacher of sublime humihty 
In gentle calm, and in the tempest's groan 
Sweeping from torrid up to frigid zone. 

We feel our stay on thee is nearly o'er. 
Our trusty ship no longer sails alone' 

And to the south in place of ocean's roar 

We hear its wavelets lap against the Emerald Shore. 



Behold to left the beacon of Cantyre! 

Lending het rays to ships from manv seas. 
At early dawn there lifts in green attire * 

Before us Sodor's head, high, and devoid of trees, 

Famed for her Manxmen and her House of Keys. 
Now there's a stir I Our pilot's at the fore 

To guide us safe thro' the intricacies 
Of Mersey's shoals, and now, our sea trip o'er, 
Exhilarant and glad we tread old England's shore. 

'The green iwird of the Isle of Man i> peculiarly attractive 
to the eye after such a long continuity of the dauling blue ocean. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XXI. 

A new sensation! as one hurries forth, 

New cars, new bridges, hedges, everything, 
On that first railway journey from the north 

To London, as around the curves we swing; 

With summer just emerging from the spring. 
What contrast to the prairie's broad expanse! 

Of green, what varied shades and coloring! 
Gardens and parks and villas that entrance; 
Tranquility and beauty met at every glance.' 



xxn. 

What shall I say of London? What can I 

Of that great citadel of Empire say? 
My pen fails when I try to testify 

Of a small part of London of to-day; 

Vast, seething, noisy, profligate and gay; 
Where in a surging stream are drawn and swiri'd. 

From lands both near at hand and far away. 
Races of many men, and where is whiri'd 
In one great vortex all the commerce of the Worid 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XXIII. 

Here may be met hot Afric's swarthy son; 

The pig-tailed merchant from the far Cathay; 
The planter from the tea-fields of Ceylon ■ 

The dusky Indian and the bronzed Malay 

Here of all tribes and tongues, a vast array, 
Attracted to the world's great capital. 

Canadian, Australian, Maori, they 
Strangers before, here mix and commingle 
And ereet here, too, their erstwhile foe of 
Transvaal. 



the 



xxrv. 

Here one may feast the eye with rare delight 
Pass weeks and months and still see something 

Galleries and theatres for day and night; 

Parks, churches, monuments, and Regent's Zoo- 

Abbeys and palaces, museums, too; 
Windsor, the dwelling-place and tomb of Kings- 

The circling Thames at Richmond and at Kew- 
Old Hampton Court, and countless other things 
Surround us everywhere and charm our wandering 



38 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XXV. 

England's proud Abbey! first of Norman styles, 
Built for the great Confessor's holy pride I 

While at the Reformation other piles 

Where did the abbot and his monks preside, 
Bearing thy title sanctuary were denied. 

Thou they didst spare! and could a nation save. 
Where she could see her makers deified 

More fitting place? And thus thine aisles, thy nave 

Are rich with statues of her great, her wise, her 
brave. 



XXVI. 

From yon triforium gallery look down 

Beneath the shade of clerestory windows' light 
On these rare marks of England's sons' renown; 

The nation's choice, the muse's favorite; 

Her statesmen here, her poets opposite. 
And own these things demand our veneration 

And worship, and our higher thoughts invite; 
This place and stone of royal coronation. 
This silent temple of men's reconciliation. 



39 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XXVII. 

Here to the north are they who governed men, 

Whose hves were given thro' good and evil fate, 
ay warnor-s sword or statesman's tongue or pen 

To mould and shape the fortunes of the State. 

And rightly, Britain, dost thou consecrate 
Such worthy lives, as thou for ever hast! 

That future ages these may emulate. 
Fitting it is that they should rest at last 
In this thy cloister's honor'd temple of the past. 



XXVIII. 

And yonder to the south, as twilight falls 

Upon the busts of Britain's bards, they seem 

As If they spoke and moved— these sculptur'd 
walls 
Seem animated 'neath the dying beam 
Of daylight— do they move or do I dream? 

Those clanon spirits who in airy flights 
Of measured cadence used of old to teem. 

Who m their palmy days from lofty heights 

Pourd forth in honey'd verse their exquisite de- 
lights. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XXIX. 

Now I turn eastward and my journey brings, 
Past sanctuary and Confessor's ancient shrine, 

My footsteps to the chapel of the Kings, 
Which Henry founded, where the Tudor line 
Sleep with the Stuarts, Kings by right Divine, 

And George the Second's Hanoverian dust: 
'Neath a carved pendant ceiling whose design 

Of fanwork tracery above them must 

Form a rich cov'ring for those here sarcophagus'd 



XXX. 

Now passing outward down the long-drawn nave 

Are other, perhaps more worthy, sepulchres. 
Here the great African explorer's grave; 

Here Newton's, first of all philosophers; 

And Herschel's, he who dwelt among the stars 
And called them each one by their name— so well 

Are these men's deeds their best interpreters 
They need no bust or monument to tell 
Of their illustriuus lives, their works incomparable 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



I saw the Coronation of the King; 

The Roy; ' march along the verdant Mall ; 
I saw each colony and nation bring 

Their tribute of respect from one and all. 

And this vast host in Britain's capital 
Join in acclaim of George's glorious reign. 

And thro' this throng, this mighty living wall, 
Saw sixty thousand troops, a brilliant train. 
Pass proudly in review to martial music's strain. 



What thoughts arise within the Briton's breast 
At this great pageant that to-day we seel 

Was there in other age made manifest 
Such perfect blend of form and liberty. 
Best marked by all this stately pageantry? 

And both time only all the more endears, 
And strengthens more the people's loyalty; 

These forms well hallowed by a thousand years, 

This freedom which our fathers won in blood and 
tears. 



SHRINES OLD ANH MEW 



I saw the Coroiiatinii oi hip Kiiig; 

The Royil irwrch along tlif .»-i lanf Mall; 
I'saw each colony atrl nation brinic 

Their tribute of resjiect from one .i:i<: Jl. 

And this vast host in Britain's capital 
Join in acclaim of George's glorions reign. 

And thro' this throng, this mighty living wall. 
Saw sixty tlKJiisan'l iroo(>«, a brilliant train, 
Pass proniiiv in itvitw t.. martial music's strain. 



What t.-ioiigbt« ;<:•■.».- • ii, •!■■.<■ rtsif^.n'' Virra.st 
At this an-Ai ;iagea!H- tnat t"i-di>', w< seel 

Was thtrp m otiM'r age m-iMc tnanit>>'. 
Such fK-rien Imiih! of forT.i and liberty, 
Best niatkeii by all this stately, pageantry? 

And both time only all the more endears, 
And strengthens more the people's loyalty; 

These forms well hallowed by a thousand years. 

This freedom whicli our fatiiers won in blood and 
tears. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



xxxm. 

This more than any other was the thou^t 
That uppermost revealed itself to me, 

That they who have this hard-won freedom ought 
A people privileged indeed to be— 
In this fact, that they have a monarchy 

Between which and themselves no longer stands 
The curse of class rule and monopoly; 

A constitution firm set which commands ' 

World-wide respect as true democracy expands 



xxxnr. 

I found a spot 'mid all this noise and stir, 
Where I could linger pensive, and review 

The scenes, the times, the work, the character 
Of statesmen, scholars, poets, artists, too, 
Hallow'd by Johnson,* where the craze for new 

Uoth not yet age's sanctity invade. 

Such spots, alas! they're left a dwindling few 

And cross the way, beneath Old Temple's shade 

I reverent stood where Goldsmith's dust is laid. 

•The oM "Chedrire Chewe Im," ,,, Fleet Street 



45 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



1 1 



XXXV. 

No cloister'd Abbey, such as other men. 

Less worthy followers of the muse, have sought 
Received thy dust, O gentle Goldsmith, when 

The lessons by thy Hermit and thy Traveller 
taught. 

Thy race was won, thy life's work nobly wrought 
Thou need st no bust to mark thy resting-place • ' 

No laurel wreath need to thy tomb be brought 
For tho thou sleepest in this quiet space 
Thy works shall live when time the cloister shall 
deface. 



XXXVI. 

What memories do these ancient haunts recall, 
Th:s Wme Court Inn, this church multangular. 

iiach nestlmg near the shadow of St Paul 
What triumphs of the muse, of state, of war, 
Of mellow'd past, a wondrous calendar! 

Here Burke and Reynolds sat, here was outpour'd 
The wme which celebrated Trafalgar; 

And here perchance, around the festive board 

Well Gwynne enjoyed the favors of her royal lord 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

XXXVII. 

^^J^'i'^f t« Hill, 'mid traffic's busy train, 
Thfi, TT °^ T^^'^' and of hurrjring men. 
The great Apostle to the Gentiles' fane 
Towers high— the monument of mighty Wren 

Th?Y^^ "" ^Ttf ^'*''^'" °^ *»* «^ord and^„. 
The authors of Napoleon's tragic fall ' 

Nelson and Wellington, and here agkin 
Miteian Donne! Heberl sweetest of them all; 
These Jonous names enrich the shades of old St 



XXXVIII. 

Bri!!^ Jl!- ^^ ^°' *' ^'"^ "' ZutpheS fell; 
Af!.^ f • ^'' «''t«"'a". genius bright. 
About whose varied gifts historians tell 
Here rest his ashes, here his funeral knell 

Of K"k 8r■.'^P'°^°""d was fitting heard, 

Of English chivalry the beau ideal, 
ThT"f°. r •'"'■^''thood, he is here interr'd, 
rho of h.s fame, alas, these walls say not a word.* 

prtMnt cath«ir.l h.. no monumVni^to .l.l!^^"*'"?.'^- ■">• 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

XXXIX. 

Here, too, the lover of the chis'I and brush 
Entranced may pore o'er Gibbons and Thomhin. 

I stood within the whisp'ring gallery's hush 
And gazed high up above its solemn stUl 
On peerless paintings— the Athenian Hill 

The stricken scoffer on Damascus' way, 
The fate of Elymas— these pictures thrill 

As far below there rests the mould'ring clay 

Of mighty painters, Reynolds, Landseer and Millais. 

XL. 

'Tis told how Thomhill with a friend had come. 

So saith the legend, on a certain day 
To work upon these paintings in the dome, 

And how he critical stepped back a way 

To view his work, but to his friend's dismay 
He stepped too far. The other with one blow 

Of brush destroyed the artist's fine display 
Who leaped to save the work, and doing so 
Rescued himself from death upon the flags below. 

xu. 
But there's another name— illustrious Pope! 

"The lettered worid still homage pays to thee; 
And I had cherished from a boy the hope 

One day thy haunts, thy resting-place, to see; 

To seek at Windsor Lady Gower's beech tree 



SHRINES OlJi AND NEW 



XX XIX. 

Mere, ttx.. the lo^er uf the chiil and brtjth 
Kritranced tnay pore oer GiWKvi,, and Thornhm 

I sttxMi within the whisp '„:(. ^(i.-?v's htish 
And gazed high up abc..- •?« -jejiv «tUI 
On peerless paintings- the Art,, ,, . Jjill 

The stricken scoffer on IMtiia* IV w,.v, 
The fate of Elyma- -these pictures thrill 

As far below there rests the mould'ring clay 

Of mighty painters, Reynolds, Undseer and Millais. 

•Tis tf>ld li m n,.nh.;il vvi.h 1 friend had come, 
S) Hrth thr ItifarHl mi a enain liav. 

To work nfKM. •h<:m: t^»%m^\pt ,,. tjv .i,,^,. 
And t»f,w he rritifai Mq^p^ t-^^ » ,», 
To View hi4 W'vk, !«„ u :„. .rm^) ,, ,i„^. 

He stepped ttv, rj, T/-., ..^iwr »if! .,„ cfow 
Of brush 'ie«t!.iv.-.i the artists fine display 

Who leaped to teve rhr w.,rk. and doin^; so 

Rescued himst-lf fnmi .ieath upon the flags below. 

xu. ' 

Bni there's another name— illustrious Pops! 

Th,- lettered world still homage pavs i thee; 
And / had cherished from a boy th* -.ope 
One liay t!,v haunts, thv re»t».|..p»»e, to .see- 
To seek .-.t W ,n.!«r.r Udv r,..»er ^ heech tree 



iiU. 




SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

On which she carved the record of thy fame • 

««/''■*'* *?""«' ""y ■""* *"»" «arf'«t infancy; 
Who hsped in numbers, for the numbers came; 
And tread thy garden and thy grot at Twickenham. 



xui. 

Hmc was the centre of a brilliant throng; 

The statesmen, poets, scholars of that day 
Here often met leaders in prose and song 

Swift, Walpole, Peterboro, Bathurst, Gay 

First of the land— a notable array 
Whose fame here yet around a halo flings. 

Here now thy treasure crumbling to decay- 
Bust, urn and statue ♦-to the thoughtful brings 
Reminder of the vanity of human things. 

lU ■poke the gMuui of a bard divine; 
And Stanhope'! plant unfold the k>^ of 



Pope." 



SI 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



) r 



XUIL 

How truly Warburton has said of thee,* 

Whom none have equalled, tho' all imitate, 
That thou declinedst to stoop to flattery 

Of kings and heroes whom men call the Great; 

But did by reason, satire, sense, create 
A fame that lesser poets could not find; 

That in thy mighty brain there dwelt innate 
Polish and scorn, praise and contempt combin'd. 
Diminutive thy stature, but how rich thy mind I 

XhTV. 

Who hath not seen, laden with fragrant bloom. 

Some poor fruit tree distorted, all awry, 
And when the welcome harvest time hath come 

That ill-shaped tree borne down with choice sup- 
ply, 

While nobler trees barren and fruitless die? 
So in our famed Parnassus, those sweet lays. 

Blooms of thy person's poor deformity. 
Have ripened well to future ages' praise. 
And all the sweeter grown with length of passing 
days. 

wl^^J.^1 ^i^'P "'.G'""""". P'««<i « inraori.1 to M, poet 
inend, with thii itiKription: 

" Heroei and kingi, your diiUnce keep ; 

In peace let one poor poet sleep. 

Who never «ati.: ed folks like you; 

Let Horace blush, and Virjil too." 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XLV. 

After the storm one gladly greets the catei, 

And now to London's surging crowds adieu- 
1 journey on to tranquil Buckingham, 

Shrine of great poets, statesmen, martyrs too. 

And scientists and scholars not a few 
Where gentle Cowper penn'd his sacred lays. 

And wrote his " Task," and Gilpin's picture drew; 
Where that oft-quoted elegy of Gray's 
Ennch'd mankind, and won its author deathless 
praise. 



XI,VI. 

At Olney Cowper breathed his sweetest song 
Which so much nature, so much truth, displays- 

And tho in mental darkness lingering long 
So far excelled the forced, affected lays 
Of copiers of Pope's and Dryden's days. 

O Providence! what dispensation kind 
Brought from this stricken soul that flood of praise 

And piety and joy ? How didst Thou find 

Such gleams of heavenly hope in a despairing mind ? 



53 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



) 



xi,vn. 
He rests not here, alast amid those scenes 

A i^If*^ "'* ^"^ *"'"*•» •"» •^w <'*y» were spent 
Altho the century which intervenes 

Has placed here his museum-monmnent. 
But far more lasting and more eloquent 
That sacred verse which here was given birth- 
Sung now in every ide and continent; 
Cast on the waters-bread of priceless worth 
Which he and Newton gave to lift and cheer the 
earth. 



u 



XLvm. 

Not far from Olney, that historic spot, 

Called Gayhurst Manor, with its stately oaks, 
Brings to our memory the Gunpowder Plot, ' 

First started here with Catesby's schemes and 
jokes; 

And Owen's cells, and subterranean walks. 
The proud seat of the Digbys, one of whom, ' 

Everard by name, with daring Guido Fawkes 
Wmter and Catesby, met the traitor's doom 
And fouled his ancient name for centuries to come 



M 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



xux. 

Close by to Eton, with its Uwns and bowers, 
endeared to him by boyhood's fondest ties, 

In sight of Royal Windsor's stately towers 
Wi!i, !?!u°* Gray-Stoke Poges-^reamy lies; 

Th M "^u *^ **'' '"»P'"» ""<» sanctifies 
1 he old church down the well trod Avenue 
Dearest of England's Muse's sanctuaries; 
The .vy-mantled tower, the family pew, 
1 he grave among his rugged ebns and shady yew 



L. 

Thmk not, O Gray, this tomb which all revere 

Where now I stand amid the gazing throng,' 
Hid aU thy sweetness when they laid thee here. 

Where thou hast slept these many ages long. 

UJi, no I the fragrance of thy matchless song 
tach spring returns in every flower and tree; 

Ihy gentle voice re-echoes from among 
The warbling birds, the drowsy humming bee.- 
All witnesses of thy songs' immortality 



55 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



u. 






Or mJo ''; •""''" °' '"' ^°"i"« Seres, 
Or memory of some childhood lullaby 



UI. 

Nwr by is Denham Court where Dryden's ~n 
Stooped to the flatteries of a cringil a« ^ 

Now nauseating i„ praise of worthless me^' 
Now steep^i i„ satire or in persifla™' 
Here, mmglmg m the bigotry and raw 

Of those tumultuous times%e in a hT 

To?d oTr.'"''^'^ ^''"''^'"■- here his page 
i Old of the treachery of Achitopel; ^^ 

Of Heavenly Hind pursued by beasts heretical. 



S6 



i 



SilRI>JES ULD AND NEW 



L 



Thy poetry ,, ,h.. ,>„,, .f,,^ „,,, 
But. l,ke the m„s,.- ,,•■•,, ,.,„,' f' 

Th, 1 J. " '*''^^v, or move to fars 
•^-■"M,)c.weic„.„.ra,„.po„tK-.„rsty ground. 



_ Stooped I., -i-u. (i^Mwift 
N'oiv nauseatiri^ .„ , ,_. 
Now strciw^i ,1 -laf,., 
Hrre, mm(;iirii. t .iie 



■ .v.k. ■ ;)en 

"- "' 'v„ni,le.« me.., 
'••I in persiflage, 
'"?'itry and rage 



^^' Heavenly Hind pursued by f.a,t,heret,cal. 



56 



'ears. 
>und, 

rrouni. 




I 



.^!X 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



LIII. 

'^"«r]?*''*' ^'" ^''** ^"^ Milton's epic birth 

Whose dauntless spirit blindness cotrid not tame 
What other Shire can boast of nobler worth 
Or point in song or state to loftier name ' 
Than those which honor'd thee, O Buckingham' 
Thou numberest Burke among thy chosen m=n- 

From thee did Edmund Waller rise to fame ■ 
Thou gavest America her glorious Penn 
And England Beaconsfield, who sleeps at Hughen- 



LIV. 

And thou canst boast of patriot martyrs, too 

Who died to give the nation liberty 
I only need to here pass in review 

The names of England's halo-crowned three 

Whose blood was shed to make her people free- 
Hampden, who fighting bravely fell at Thame • " 

Coke, who resisted Royal tyranny 
And William Russell, that revered name 
Whose unjust death redounded to hi^ countrv . 
shame. • ' 



59 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



i: 



i,v. 

And thou hast victors in the world of peace 
As well as war, and can of scholars tell — 

Of Grote, whose knowledge of the Greeks and 
Greece 
In history's realm none other could excel, 
And who at Bumham Beeches came to dwell ; 

Of the great Herschel, conqueror of the skies, 
And heavenly searcher without parallel ; 

Who saw at Slough th' Uranian planet rise, 

And to the world revealed night's wondrous 
mysteries. 



I^n. 

A day in Oxford old, and redolent 
Of learning of long centuries ago; 

Of Wolsey and of Wickham eloquent. 
And martyr's stake, and Amy Rofasart's woe, 
Betrayed by Dudley; in the vault below 

St. Mary's chancel this fair woman sleeps, 
'Mid cnmibling quadrangle and portico, 

Relics of Saxon walls and Norman keeps ; 

Here myriad years of lore th' antiquary reaf>s. 



60 



SHRINES OLD AND MEW 



Lvn. 

In vale of Thame, to Oxford ci«^ at hand. 

Is Chalgrove field with Hamj^'s monoment, 
WWe dashmg Rupert and h.s Royal band 

AnTrP?i![lf''* '** '"'*" °* '»« Parliament- 
And Oxford boasts that rismg ; yet nnrent 

^'"If f -';« >^ft^ her ancient Sa^onZer' 
Ar^d that NewCollege walls and battlement 
Are hers, reminders of that lone gone ,mur 
When Roses, Wh«e and Red,^p^°:: ^/ly po^ 



Lvin. 

Barl? ^"^''\^'^^- whose d«al h.story dates 
Back to Queen Anne, with lebanon and b«ch 

W^cf Sath^- ^."'^'°^'^ ^'««P'"^ ^^s gates. 
Which Sarah finished, so the Arch relates 

^''"'' '^r"' """""^'^ '''^ warrior lord 
Whom a tall shaft nearby commemorates ' 

£ Rl"'L ?' »' '°""'^ =°»'d afford 

For Blenheim, Ram'lies, Malplaquet and Oudenar* 



6i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ux. 

Toward Wales and Scotland then our travel lay. 

The first part of the trip by motor car. 
And as we journeyed forward on our way. 

Along those perfect roads without a jar 

Past tiller of the soil and villager, 
Flying by town and stream and wood and grot. 

Grazing perchance the swift or loiterer, 
I thought what space destroyer had I got, 
A " poetry of motion " bards of old had not. 



LX. 

Bidding farewell to Bucks early one mom. 

We start for Severn's vale, which artists rave on ; 
Saw Banbury Cross, in childhood's rhyme well worn. 

And scanned th' inscription on its side engraven ; 

Sojourn'd a while at Stratford on the Avon ; 
Thro' Shakespeare's home, and Hathaway's cottage 
stroll'd, 

Mecca of travellers ! Tourists' welcome haven. 
But anything by me of Shakespeare told 
Would be unequal to poor gilt on •'nest gold. 



62 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ua. 

To whom from hrigte above the common ground 
Twas given alone impartially to view 

The weaknesses and frailties that abound 
In human life, and to discern the true 
From the unre«S— he of all men knew 

The villain's good, the hero's riOainy. 
He had that tolerance whkh akxie the few 

Possess— rare wisdom without vanity 

And the world's master-port's gift— humanity. 



ucn. 

Whose tyrants live in hatred and in fear 
And die unpitied, and besmirched with blood- 

Whose murderers in a hell on earth appear; 
Whose crafty persons perish in a flood 
Of their own craft; nor do his rogues elude 

1 hat law of compensation which frustrates 
Their evil deeds, condemns their turpitude; 

Whose every character his brain creates 

The justice of God's providence well vindicates 



«3 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



¥ 



Lxra. 

■He Pose above all f«n:<....' ^^'^^'"y. 
K^t. ■ .■ . . *" station's aid 
1»ch individual OM^n.~. 

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1.XIV. 

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SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



liXV. 

Quickly we sped along, often too fast. 

Past lovely park surrounding ancient seat- 
By clock-tower'd church built in the reverent past; 

By yew and beech of noblemen's retreat. 

Of all these objects which the motorist greet 
He takes in but a few, he misses more. 

And, hurried on, longs for the obsolete— 
The good old easy-going coach and four. 
And the slow creeping travel of the days of yore 



LXVI. 

Bridgnorth! a Queen upon her rocky throne. 

She stands 'mong England's other towns unique 

In emmence and outline all her own. 

Nature hath almost played with her a freak 
Banng those red cliffs, rising gaunt and bleak, 

Where stands her leaning castle, now a wreck 
Of her as like Jerusalem some speak; 

I likened her as, gazing from some deck. 

One views high up the battlements of old Quebec 



67 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



fii 



ixni. 

Behold the vale of Severn from the edge 
Of castle hill, stretching for miles around. 

One casts the eye from Bridgnorth's red-cliffed ledge 
O'er panoramic scene not often found : 
The castle ruins which the walks surround. 

Standing as sentry over town and glen ; 
Entrancing scenes so frequent here abound. 

One realizes soon why Shropshire men 

Are greeted with the title " Proud Salopian I" 



,iM 



Lxvni. 

Not only is she rich in scenic view, 

But Salop takes high place in history's page. 
And Bridgnorti; makes her boast, and justly, too. 

Of valor of her men in bygone age. 

This castle ruin, bower'd in foliage, 
Has witnessed many a long and bloody strife. 

Seen White and Red Rose their fierce conflicts 
wage, 
And this old town, when Cromwellism was rife 
Bravely held out for Charles, his army and his life. 



;* I 



68 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



UCIX. 

^ T^w'l t^V""'"^ ""«^t^^' shades. 

To Worfield's hamlet and its piercing spire- 
Its slopmg churchyard and its chestnut^laS 

FoIh''^^.' ^' k™' '^^"*y °'^'^ ""«' higher 
Found^ Shrewsbuiy, County seat of this good 

^ F^.naT'' P"'"' '°y"' "^-f™" there 

Found time to tour across to and admire 
Bu. dwas and Wenlock, Abbeys old and rare 
Wh.ch ardent zeal of reformation could not spare 



LXX 

I Climbed the Wrekin, lonely mount and old,* 

Fro^ ""vf "'^"'^ P""*'"* S*'°P'=" n<=-'e>- tires 
From whose majestic crest one may behold 

Their hn' °^'^T"='" ^^-^ •^'^'^"t Shires, 

I passed Sr."?T''''=''-"'r ^°""'y ^^'^ -"d ''Pi'^. 
passed where Uricomum's ruins stare. 

And Ludlow, which literary fame acquires 

Because great Milton wrote his " Comus " thfre • 

And her once famous castle, desolate now and blre. 



69 



It , ' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



LXXI. 

Fair Apley Park I with castellated gates, 

Where once proud Whitmore made his princely 
home; 
With hollowed cavern in her rocks which dates 

Back to when Cromwell's troc^s were trouble- 
some. 

I watched her browsing jeer in hundreds roam, 
And viewed her mansion from the terrace bold. 

And mirror'd Severn north from shadows come. 
What loss of pride when this fair seat was sold. 
And family lineage fell to ironmaster's gold I 



(i'l 



t< 



ixxa. 

But this rare beauty spot is only one 

Of many English mansions, where the new 
Replaces old, and family pride is gone. 

And vulgar wealth reigns lord of all in view. 

In England now the plutocrat, the Jew, 
The once fair name of country seat debases ; 

His tentacles the church encircle, too; 
And he is filling up these sacred places 
With men who love the world and lack the Christian 
graces. 



70 



;: i 



W.', 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ixxin. 

And yet men wonder why the house of God 

Wh^Z^ Z^^- '*'*'""8 ^''h decay,* 
When these old fanes, this consecrated »d 

ComTr ■ -^^^ °^ "'" ''^°'" S^^bler-s play. 
Comer in iron, or a lucky day ^ 

On stock exchange causes in wealth to roll I 

To whom land, game, and fish are giv.m away • 

Xl tw*""!,'"" ^^'''- ^'"^y control ^' 
All thesc^and^worse, the sanctuaries of the human 

""« to Apler u an .»T!™i " 'epn»ch; I am merdr refer, 

lord, of ^?."nd C«? ta~""™'dZ'^r."''« ^ow ttJ 
viiling wijch ,i|o„ ,1," „, 5. "''. out of date ajrateiii an- 

thiclcl, popouted o„SnV,''tacS;TM\'ere°', '"'" ."""^ 
towM, to be »bK>I«fel, at ttT-^l 5"^' '*^ •»• thriving 
whom chance may make a S^tJi,''" "*"' *«»«on of one man 
««i». . ;cw, a 'il^«, o'?'^k!; • »°»-«onformi«, a nni- 
enough when •urrounded witt " e hS ''^f * • '^"™ "" '»'• 
•»d Pre.lige, but how mJT woL ° dl ?,f "' '?"■"" ''*"'• 
■natenal condition. I am here rf^.- .*' irreligiou. and 

iug rapidly evenr day? In s^tfe .°''"'' "■'"" "• '-"^ 
e.t,bU.h«i churTh th^ lonf ago °ec„!„"lf"^i' •* " «''". "■• 
"■ ""'«-"'• '-proper and LXd" tor.m.'nce """*"* "«^ 

71 



r 



• i 
II 

I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



Lxxrv. 

Would that some Milton might again appear, 
And put these Belials of to-day to shame; 

These modem sons of Eli, who besmear 

With lust and violence God's house and name, 
And England's alfars, once revered, defame. 

Time was when loud against such an array 
The great blind poet saddened did declaim. 

And strive their carnival of vice to stay. 

What England needed then does she not need to- 
day? 



LXXV. 

Doth not the noise of riot loud ascend 
In her luxurious cities ? Once again 

Above her loftiest towers doth there not blend 
Injury and outrage ? Doth there not lurking reign 
In England's palaces a wanton train 

Who love vice for itself, for evil pine? 

When sheltering night doth o'er her streets obtain, 

Can one not presently discern the sign 

Of Belial's offspring flown with insolence and wine? 



72 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



IXXVI. 

"^ w;!!"™ "°t many Bladesovers to-day 

Where Lichenstein usurps the place of Drew?* 
All evidencing that broad, slow decay 
In England's social organism. The Tew 
Could never make nor can replace, tho' true 
"e g'ets and spreads out saprophytical 

Bringing in naught creative, fresh or new 
nxcept that in the ancient lordly hall 
The Bond Street show-room caste its trail around it 



LXXVH. 

These parvenus assume the role of lord 
Without the old and lordly family tree, 

F«?nV''!;'^'' ''""'^''^dge, training or the sword. 

Essential to true aristocracy. 

In dullness they are only a degree 
Above th' old gentry less intelligent; 

Act-ve, not passive, their stupidity 
To make ari.tocrate their aims are bent 
In vain from trade and finance rather than from rent. 



73 



-1^ 



r.i 



P "' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ixxvni. 

But here I pause I which is the greater cjrse— 

That vulgar rich now buy and grasp and hoard 
The most of England's land, or is it wo.se 

To pay rent to an absent spendthrift Lord? 

I'm told about an Earl who owns a third 
Of a whole Shire which he has never seen; 

And I rejoice that our Canadian sward 
Is each man's own, and I am thankful that 
We bend no knee to Eari or Jew jr Plutocrat. 



1: 



LXXIX. 

But now to Miales our wanderings are bent, 

Where Snowdon lifts his barren, dreary head; 
'Neath this and thro' Llanberis Pass we went. 

And by the hills and Falls of Bettws-y-coed. 

Carnarvon next, dull, tsnco guid— and dead. 
'Twas Sabbath when I reached this godly seat. 

Hotels were barr'd, and on the streets no ttead. 
'Tis told that here the stocks enclose the feet 
Of him who dares on Sabbath whistle on the street I 



74 



II - 




<»■■ W I..9 1 






SUKl.Nh^ H,l> AND ,KU' 



i tX^ 111 

lUa hen- I jiausc' A'hiii. -nr grtas^i 
Tii.it vulgar ri'-h hoa i.i, ■ . 

The iiius! of Englaiirl'.s 1,. , 

To pay rent to an alisei.i ^j.t•l..lt)rlll u.it.i- 
I m t. .1(1 alioiit an Eari who owns a tliin; 

Of .1 ttli..le Shire which he ha.s m-ver seen; 
Ano I rn i.-a that our Cana<liaii swanl 

I' eaih man j ...en. .in<l } am thankful that 

VV< hen.l n.. knet !. Ka,' .., lew or Plutocrat. 



f 



II.,- -...v ■. ,.,!.. „^,^ 

V, hf re Snu,(l crrar* rwa.i; 

'Neath this „..,. tr, ........j.-ris. i ji, »e »-en! 

.\nc1 |,y the hii!« jn.1 r'allv .ji Bettws y-(i)ed. 

Carnarv >n next, <ii..n. ;;nc-i giiid — ami dead. 
'Twa-s Sabbath when i reached this jjodly >-eat. 

Hotels were harr'd, and oi tie streets no tread. 
Ti.s tnid that here the stock,i enclo.se the fee', 
Of him wlio dares on Sabbath whistle in the street! 



74 



- 




■pfeedr"!' '';"'^';'"'"' ^""J 'iK-- Tor. Casaule^ 



(See page log.) 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



I,XXX. 

What'sjwd turns good, what's been quite wrong is 

These Welsh dissenters do detest a throne 
But presto! one of them's created Knight ' 
And, glittering Star and Garter all their own, 
Tis wondrous how in loyalty they're grown; 
And praise of Prince enthroned doth never ceas^ 
Tu '" *' *''^* Investiture just gone. 
These little saints, to save a crown apiece 
Hired and then starved the MetropoUtan Police I* 

LXXXI. 

A pity 'tis, Carnarvon men like these 

Rule and oppress thee, blest with Nature's charms • 
ihfcie narrow Calvinistic pharisees. 

Who view men's common actions with alarms 

T-"^-*** i° ?'^ '"'' laughter nought but hams, 
m sport and play the devil's deadly sting ; 

And tho' among themselves dissension swarms 
Unannnous they are about one thing- 
Lloyd George their little god, their idol, uncrown'd 
King! 

«22!! iLrf. '^•™"<'» I"«"t>ture wu done by the looU«i.tS. 
^^^ '".IT' ™,«"i"f«"oty that the cSnnri J^"*! 
tllmt OUT would Kcave aUovance (ccordinily. "~~^ •»" 

77 



i> 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



Lxxxn. 

To Nonconformists he stands large and «and 

To lead this Israel to its Promised Land 

Of disendowment, disestablishment! 
vZ^i ^J"^ *''«"«''ves I found there's many a rent 

^n ot W rr^""^ '° '"^'"''■" his sway ' 

In one Welsh congregation of dissent 
Not very long ago I'm told that they 
Spht up on whether they should stand or kneel to 
pray I 



LXxxiii. 

On Conway's ancient castle walls I roved 
Saw m St Mary's old churchyard near' by 

InCfa::S.^°^'^"°'''''^ ^''^ °ft »'- "oved 
m ms famed We are Seven " elegy 

And mid those crumbling, battered niins I 
Had easily m fancy backward trod 

nr tu?^ ^'"^ ^'^^"'^ here his foes defy 
Or w.th the poet in Gray's Bard have stood 
Haggard of eye and woeful, over ConwayTfiood 



tl. 



n i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



LXXxnr. 

Behold Lake Vemwy, shady, deep and cool 
A wondrous feat of engineering skill. ' 

Which gives to distant, busy Liverpool 
The purest water from the Welshman's hill 

fast Kuthyn, with her spires and castle tall 

Crowning the hilltop, we press on, until 
Wales falls behind, and England we recall 
By Chester s old Cathedral and encircling wall 



LXXXV. 

^ t^^V^"^ j°"""=y' *"<> at '«ngth I find 
Myself m Wordsworth's land, and gaze upon 

Those reverend recesses of the mind— 
Lakes falls and ghylls, the poet's Helicon 
I climbed up to Helvellyn's tow'ring crown 

Purpled with heather, swarmed by murmuring bees. 
And from this dizzy eminence look'd down 

On Ulswater's fair valley-scenes like these 

Inspired the poet's soul, and well the fancy please 



79 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



I 



LXXXVI. 

In quiet village churchyard at Grasmere 
He sleeps whom abbey's tomb could not attract- 

The glorious English Lake bard's dust is here; 
Poet of nature, student close, exact. 
Lover of small things, he who could extract 

More from the tiny drops of dew which wet 
The grass around than from the cataract! 

Who, passing mightier themes, could always get 

Music in stone a^id tree, song in the violet. 

LXXXVIl. 

But sad it is that as one moves about. 
Drinks in and feels the lofty and sublime, 

The sordid and the worldly will crop out 
And soil and mar the beauty every time 
Here man's base love of greed approaches crime. 

However quaint the spot, the place how fair— 
A bridge to cross, an old church tower to climb 

1 found with almost feelings of despair 

The "perquisited variet" flourished everywhere* 

But wh.t the flow-ring pride of garden, rwe, 
HoweTer roy.1, or however Wr 

CJJe but hke Peter'. P.r.diK, for pa,? 

If perqm.ited variet. frequent .tand, 

And each new walk muat a new tax demand, 

80 




■ f 



SHRINES Ol.n AND NEW 



I.XX!tVl. 

In qu.*t viliapr ,hi:n:l.v«rd it Oasmere 

He sleeps wh.,n, abbey'., tomb - .„W not attract; 

The glorious English Uke hard ■ .^a ., here 
I "et of nature, student close exact 
Lover of small things, he who eould tM,.ct 

More from the tiny drops of dew which wet 
the grass around than from the cataract] 

Who. passing mightier themes, could always get 

Music m stone and tree, song in the violet. 

LXXXVII. 

Bm «.•• ., :, (h,t M ,,ne moves about, 

The w,r,*,W «.;< ,h» . , „^ „, 

And «,! ^nc! ryu>, . . , ,.,^,,. ,,^_^ 

Mere nw,. . t,„^ u„^ ,., j.,,^, swf*«^,|^ ,,,^ 

However .,«ains ,K, ,,v« ,<« p,,^, f,ow fa,r - ' 

I found w.th a,mus tilings of despair 

The • perquisit«l varirt " nourished everj-where • 

ii P-r^.,Kd v.rlrts frtqucnt r.-.nd 
*"' "-* "*'• ""k ■»>■« • «w t« d,ra«d, 
80 



I' 



let; 




IHI 



i!' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



LXXXVUI. 

When I was seeing Conway's old purlieus, 

I paid sixpence to climb her castle wall; 
Officials said 'twas necessary to use 

These funds to prop the ruins or they'd fall. 

But surely this must be what we would call 
A petty theft, or swindling sharper's game. 

For when I sUrted off I found that all 
The stairs and towers and wall (they're all the same) 
Were barr'd, forbidden ground to everyone that 
came. 

LXXXIX. 

At Windermere I heard the porter tell 

Of a much noted church and priory 
Down near the sea— the place was called Cartmell; 

So I ran down there one day in July, 

And found the noble Duke who lives near by * 
AUow'd a sixpence toll from all who trod 

Inside its walls — can anyone tell why 
What should be free to all, the house of God, 
Is used to perpetrate this piece of petty fraud ? 

Wb« foreign ejw but with contempt •unrey.? 

What muie shall from oblivion snatch their praise?" 
™u^!lli ™*'i !" M '•/°"™«3' "rang out of tourists by these " oer- 
qmsited Tarlets" of the British Isles it might be int^Vtin^o 

SSLT"; "'^T,'- ?' •*'■''' """"•'' •"' indiiecVmSTe M ii. 
mS- ^^"^ '"""«. "■" »« '"e filching and hawldnT^ton. 
coUeetiiv that IS permitted to be carried on in public and s«,i. 

«iwa Falls and other famous new world resorts, should be free 

• This liTing is in the patronage of the Dulte of Devonshire. 
83 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



xc 

Not far away a hotel called Lodore 
Stands, and behind this far-famed hostelry 

There rise some nigged boulders, nothing more, 
Altho' the tourist is informed that he 
A wondrous catarart will surely see; 

And pays to pass iniide th' enclosing fence. 
Because he's told " 'tis private property," 

And he parts with his quickly dwindling pence 

To see these rocks — which is it, fraud or false 
pretei. e? 






XCI. 

From Windermere's fair scenes our journey turns 
Northward 'mid winding mountain rill and glen 

To Scotland, land of heather and of Bums; 
Where Johnson, who in satire dipped his pen. 
Says that the food which here is given to men 

In England horses eat — but oi her Isles, 
Staffa, lona. Jura, tell me when 

Before I saw the like, and Bute's fair Kyles, 

And further on the ancient seat of the Argyles. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

xcn. 

I tour'd one da% from Glasgow down to Ayr. 

No traveller comes to Glasgow hut avails 
Kimself of seeing Bums' birthplace there. 

And I observed that here, too, there prevails 

The same fell curse of England and o* Wales; 
Three fees were charged to enter 'stead of one I 

I mused as I responded to these calls 
Could he but know of all this plund'ring done 
What Scotland's bard would say— !ier honest, 
worthy son I 



xcm. 

Thou'rt cursed, fair Scotland, for alas ! thou'rt bound 
By tolls and fees where'er the traveller goes 

I climbed the Trossachs, at their feet I found 
Ere I this charming spot of nature rose 
I paid eighteen-pence to His Grace, Montrose— 

Another of these glaring landlord fakes 
Is now asserted, and the tyrant throws 

His coils 'round Lomond, and thy Queen of Lakes 

The lordly clan Colquhoun, like grasping despot 
takes.* 

• A decirion of tke Coon of Senloiu hu ion lira Sir I..™. 
Colquhoun one of ,b. l«,drf proprirtor. JJTc^tT fi'/SkT 

^r^^^X^^,^ t- o-,« - i^t 

5 8s 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



xav. 

Thy sacred fanes are tnrr'd by tolls and feet, 
To see them he of slender purse despairs. 

At palace and at castle, if not these 
Rapacious guide or sprawling soldier glares, 
And noisy hawkers scream their common wares. 

In these once lordly haunts of Marmion 
Gone the old pride, the glory of the Stairs. 

O Burke, immortal I not in Prance alone. 

In Scotland, too, the age of chivalry is gone. 



xcv. 

As I survey these beauty spots on high; 

These castle, drives, old kirks, and scenery, 
..ind hear the peasant's and the tourist's Ci/, 

The question bold presents itself to me — 

Cannot these great romantic places be 
Instead of sink holes, people's gold to drain, 

By the State owned and by the State made free? 
Why is this whole great nation's wide domain 
Given o'er to pedlar's vulgar lust and landlord's 
gain? 



86 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



XCVI. 

"^ZTJ^JI^ ?•*• ° ^'•"'l' i" *e end 

On landed noble, if it must be. spend 
Thy grid to give the people liberty 
JntoU d to mount thy hills, unfettered see 

These relics of the men who made thee great 
Thy beauty spots thy patriot shrines should be 

KnTa. fh T ^J'^'""' *'"«'■ '''''• ^ 'he State. 
*ree as thy heather-scented air immaculate. 



xcvn. 
And royal Edinburgh, once so fair, 

^tJ^ J^^^ "^ ^'^ '°*^ ^S^' "^ »»«* 
^th sordid gam now too hold revelry 

E en old St. Giles, famous in history, 

"~ threepence to pass within her doors. 

At Scott s tall shaft th' official predatory 

Is met; at Knox's house a janitor's ^ 

Stem ^°^e^rf«nands sixpence to walk its ancient 



9; 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



xcvm. 

And Bums, her bard, rests not in native place, 
But in a lonely grave in far Dumfries, 

And sordid Scotland stands for this disgrace, 
Y^ claims his. fame athwart the distant seas. 
■ Calton's Hill still brave the salt Forth's breeze 

Twel"e crumbling columns, bleak, unfinished things. 
Poor mimics of the piles of ancient Greece. 

Shame on the times I with shame the welkin rings! 

Down from the Royal eyrie of the Stuart Kings.* 



XCIX. 

But while o'ercome with serious thoughts like this 

I sought 'mid Scotia's natural charms to find 
In this Sahara vast an oasis 

Where loftier thoughts might slake the thirsty 
mind; 

Where lost the base, might enter the refined ; 
And so I turned to Melrose, Abbotsford, 

And round Dalmeny's shores where Forth doth 
wind. 
And 'mongst the ruins of Craigmiller, stored 
With tales of honeymoon of Mary and her lord. 

* Edinburgh Cattle. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



God rest thy soul I about me here are seen 

At Holyrood, Lochleven, Linlithgow, 
Thy palace, prison, birthplace, gentle Queen, 

Scenes of thy pride, thy trials, and thy woe. 

Ere Langside saw thy final hopes laid low. 
And the base Moray did thy cause betray; 

How oft in anguish here thy tears did flow. 
Saddened I viewed these sights which led the way 
To thy inglorious doom at cruel Fotheringay. 



a. 

Our motor we have left behind, and now 
Have taken ship for Scotland's island shores 

At Glasgow, and our little vessel's prow 

Points down the Clyde, and passes many scores 
Of spectral ships, coming competitors 

For ocean's trade, and now ahead I see 
Dumbarton's rock, famous in Scotland's wars 

Whose castle high frowning there gloomily 

Recalls old days of song and strife and chivalry. 



89 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



en. 
Macaiium More's domain fading awav 

tjra to the Cartle HillU D„noo„ il, **"' ?*"■ '»<' ""-"Wht 
»'."f H.^'l;l*'„':»™ ■" *' «-'-'•«• Of But.. d.«,d- 

^Ji'iif r.s!h°i Ss;"/tJs t^r',"' «" ^"""^c tide 

•unken rock Mu.e. the wrye, to ^^T"" ^""J """ Sowbt. A 
•■•' many legends connected trirtrt'^ """"'•^'■« "«'>• There 
Scott de«rihe. in hi. " BorterSi,!^'^.™' "«'"•""■• ""S 



90 




i 



SHRINES OU) \V;> NEW 



^n 



ui. 

"-'an Lamonts death hill .t ' If^" " 
With Highland Man -, „ "'" '*^''^"= "■" '» 
And Arran"s S .' ^'.^^nt-Dnnc^n, 
^n-f Bute" nm^H •'"'''''^"'^ "^ Cumbrae; 

J^n distance «-hnl '" ^^^'"^ ^«'ay 



i« 



MotiBt Shurl. ti.r 
"♦' of Kin, R„b„, , 



■-!an 






90 



>y: 




M 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cm. 

From sea-girt Oban one may wander forth 
To each fair spot where fancy bids him go; 

ToMidl and Skye, those dreamlands of the north- 
To Fmgal's Cave, or vale of old Glencoe, 
Where Campbells wrought the clan Macdonald's 
woe; 

Or lona, the sacred Isle, which gave 
Columba that the Gospel faith might grow.; 

Or Tnochatan's loch, whose waters lave 

The foot of ancient Ossian's high o'erhanging cave. 

CIV. 

Watch the red snn sink into Oban's sea; 

The mirror'd lights at evening in her bay 
From some high overhanging promontory 

Or from the pulpit of revered Macrae.* 

Then let the veriest landscape critic say 
What other spot he thinks more soft beguiles- 

What sights sublimer in this realm than they 
Or of all lands where Nature beauteous smiles 
What can surpass in grandeur Scotland's western 
isles. 

n^^u «™n«nce wuth of the town and oyM-lookin» the le. 

i^i;?.t^-r.h^v-ssr';r^„5 orn«,.\/^^^^^ 

jrcr^ « ochwonal iron Kat with a «a»pole in it, „n?^ tJS 

93 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



Now rises Bigg's green Isle, with Scuir, so steep, 

Perched on the apex of a pyramid. 
It frowns o'er the surrounding ocean deep, 

And nought from its o'ertow'ring peak is hid. 

Three hundred years ago it witnessed — 
So saith tradition — in a.ncHrby cave, 

A tragedy barbaric, ant ^rhich rid 
The Isle of its whole people, made one grave 
Of that dark grot for all, from child to chieftain 
brave. 



The story saith for insult to their clan 

The angry tribe, Macleod, came o'er from Skye, 
Resolved to slaughter each Macdonald man 

Who fell in view of their avenging eye. 

But how they wrought this woeful tragedy. 
More fit peitains to sad and mournful rhymes. 

No heed they gave to wife or children's cry; 
Their victims' tortures were their own pastimes ; 
They marr'd Eigg's Isle with worst of Scotland's 
history's crimes. 



94 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cvn. 

Macdonald's clan, their wives and babes to save 
Had left Bigg's huts, wherein they humble dwelt. 

And refuge sought in Francis' gloomy cave 
How little reck'd they of the death it spelt 
Or of the torture which Skye's murderous Celt 

Intended, when, their dwellings burnt and lost. 
He block d the cave with faggots, and they felt 

Fire s roastmg heat as each in anguish toss'd, 

And all died martyrs to this dreadful holocaust! 



cvin. 



mountains show their summits 



But now Skye's 
proud ; 

Behold Ben-Cailleach's lofty peak appear, 
Capanson d in heather, tipp'd in cloud, 

A long and rugged climb, the' seeming near.* 

And all around are evidences here 
Of Britain's curse. Like many another case, 

A ordly Idler tolls each port and pier; 
Another drone of a decaying race 
But adds another page to Scotland's worst disgrace. 



95 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cix. 

P°<'^.'°^e'y Skyel this lordly imbecile 

With tolls and taxes levies rates and feus. 
Sudcs out the very lifeblood of the Isle. 

Her capital he owns and her purlieus; 

To islander or traveller he'll refuse 
A landing free— to free men what a plight! 

Is there no law to stop these cursid dues? 
Wiere do these titled vampires get the right 
Of power so vast o'er every soul and thing in sigj 



ex. 

'T« written I clear and plain on history's page 
The answer to this burning question's told- 

How powerful chieftain in a byegone age, 
For King or countryman betrayed and sold. 
Or spurious sons of Kings bad, lustful, bold 

,,?..'?"^°" ^''*" ^^^^ ^=st possessions free, 
V/hich still to-day their idle scions hold 
Or got them thro' some godless piracy 
Of the religious houses of antiquity. 



96 



EW 



id feus, 

a; I 

)lightl j 

dues ? I 

right I 
ling in sight? 



spage 

s told : 

fe, 

id sold, 

il, bold, 

ns free, 

•Id, 







V * t* 1 







SHRINES OLi:> > VD NEW 



cix. 

Pwr 'jvely Skye! t|- . u,r,!|v ,,„f^r,le ' 
\V,th tolls and taxc: l./ir, -«», i,,,, .,^, 

bucks out the very lifttii,x„i .f -,„ f,ie 
Her capital he owns aivl her j.^rhcus- 
To islander or traveller he'll refuse 

A -anding ("rec-to free men what a plight' 
is there no law to stop these curst-d dues' 

\VT,ere do these titled vampires pet the rifiht 

^t ;.-wrr so vast o'er ever> soul an,! thiuj; in ^i- 



Th written! clear and ,.u„ ,,.■ ..„„„v', paw 
I he answer to th,s in,...,„g q„„, ,,p-, ,„,^. 

How powerful rhiefta.n m a bve^one age 
For Kini,' or countrynia;: t«rtr..ved and sold 
Or spnnous so.is of Kings bad, lustful, bold' 

Were wanton given these vast [wssessions free' 
Which still to-day their idle scions hold ' 

Or got them thro' some godless piracy 

'^f. the religious houses of antiquity. ' 



96 



SHRINES OLL VKri >jew 



CXI. 

No British freeman who industrious toils, 

And gives for what he has equivalent, 
Should be deprived of honest, hard-earned spoils 

He or his fathers won by labors spent; 

Nor do I grudge from them the gifts that went 
lo Mariboro and the like, old leaders brave. 

Whose valor made this realm magnificent' 
But sovereign State, the hand that wanton gave 
Should check these titled idlers who the lands 
enslave. 



cxn. 

I scorn a nation's proletariat 

Who will not gladly, richly, compensate 
The scholar, patriot, statesman, diplomat. 

Who, poor, his genius given to the State, 

Has toiled and striven to make the nation great 
And glonous peaceful triumphs help'd to win. 

But a great landlord incurs righteous hate 
Who cares not who's cast out so he is in, 
Who toils not, neither did his worthless forbears 
spin. 



99 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXIII. 

Whose family tree is laden with the fruit 
Of desecrated shrines and monasteries; 

Tho' now his Lordship's taste it doesn't suit. 
To talk about unpleasant things like these.' 
And when he's asked his share of taxes he's 

Indignant at the insult, he'll allege 
It's theft, the basest of iniquities — 

This drone, whose fortune in a bygone age 

Was built on plunder, treachery, or sacrilege. 



cxiv. 

Stript Scotland's vales now of that hardy race 
Of toilers who once dwelt there happy, such 

The Law which gives the lord of earth more place 
To hunt his deer, hold in his grasping clutch 
The hare and grouse the needy dare not touch. 

Driven from her soil to some far distant shore, 
These men to whom the nation owes so much.' 

And should Great Britain be embroil'd in war. 

The loss of them, perhaps, too late che will deplore. 



100 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxv. 

Upon whose ears doth skirl of bagpipes fall 
Now that these sturdy men no more are here? 

Whose bounty fills the old ancestral hall 
With feast magnificent and gorgeous cheer? 
Who roam those runnel'd slopes in search of deer? 

wu*" TV.'''^ ""'" '"'"'* ^^'" sojourn brief. 
What lordly spender, generous financier? 

If not the titled drone or Gaelic chief 

The rich Oil King, the t . , of Cop;>er, Hogs .,nd 
oett. 



cxvi. 

'Tis but a span from Skye to Inverness 

That stately, prosperous city of the north: 
Surrounded by a land of fruitfulness, 

Beyond which stretches Moray's silv'ry Firth- 

And of pathetic memory the swarth 
Of dire CuIIoden, with its deadly well 

That field from which the Prince was driven forth 
Where trench and mound and tomb in sadness tell 
How Stuart cause was crushed and Highland chief- 
tarn fell. 



lOI 



If r 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



// 



cxvn. 

Here Tomnaheurich lifts her wooded head, 

A fairy hill I a legendary spot, 
A monument itself for all its dead, 

Thy marble may, thy granite circled plot 

But thou, fair hill, canst never be forgot. 
Like other piles of dead men's vanities. 

Which, long upkept, at length dissolve and rot. 
Thou shalt remain, and every traveller please 
Who roams between the Eastern and the Western 
seas. 



CXVIII. 

My space does not permit that I should dwell 
Upon the many charms, th' entrancing sights 

Of Caledonia and Loch Ness, nor tell 
Of all those panoramic scenes' delights. 
The sail thro' these romantic haunts invites; 

Of Lovat's seat, and of the Foyer's Falls, 
Of jutting crags and ruined castles, sprites 

Of bygone Highland days; lochs and canals. 

Skirted with dreamy towns, umbrageous littoral; 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



Mighty Ben Nevis I Monarch, heaven-kiss'd, 
Tow'ring away above Loch Linnhe's shore. 

I saw the sun dispel thy morning mist. 
Uncrowning thee, thou hoary warrior, 
Beneath whose heights had swept the echoing 
Wort 

Of battle, when on Inverlochy's plain, 

Montrose the Campbells slew, and here forlore 

Among thy straths the gallant Prince in vain 

Gathered once more his men Culloden had not slain. 



cxx. 

I've touched on England, of her men and laws, 

Her poets, statesmen, history, capital ; 
Of Wales and Scotland, and the many flaws 

Which 'mong their customs and their sons prevail. 

To Ireland's shores I now expectant sail. 
And first sight hill-crown'd Howth and Dublin Bay; 

Sorento's point, Killiney's suiiimit tall. 
And landing, drive by coach the selfsame day 
To charming Powerscourt Falls, just up the glen 
from Bray. 



103 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

cxxi. 
And Tinnahinch, where patriot Grattan dwelt, 

It nestles, too, in Dargle's fairy glen; 
A gift from Ireland to that worthy Celt 

For his .'ife's efforts for his countrymen. 

To Ireland's metropolis I journeyed then. 
With her great Phoenix Park of fame world wide; 

Of no mean city is he citizen 
Whose home is here, tho' to the spot's allied 
The tele of Cavendish, and how he barbarous died. 

cxxn. 

And Ireland's capital reminds us, too. 

Of names of famous men of history. 
In passing I recall to mind these few : 

Grattan, O'Connell, Pamell, Burke, McGee. 

She has her dark side, streets where poverty 
Glares hideous, a breeding-ground of crimes. 

She has her " Michan's," gruesome mystery,* 
And that repository of bygone times, 
Saint Patrick's, with its massive tower and silv'ry 
chimes. 

•The vaulta under thia church show open to the air, and ex- 
poaed to full view at a head charge of 64, within reach of and 
actually handled by many morbid viiiton, hundreda of dec-./ing 
corpaea of people of all claaaea, from lorda to paupers and traitora 
of the 1798 rebellion. The mystery conaista of there being no 
dampness and offensive odor, though some of the burials are quite 
recent, and veils of cobwebs stretching from the ceiling to the 
coffins and the loose bones give the place > most weird appear- 
ance. 

104 



P 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXXIII. 

Tread gently, reader, in this hallowed place. 
Which to his lasting fame a noble Lord 

Has saved from ruin, ignomy, disgrace, 
And to its present elegance restored.* 
Well can the reverent, thoughtful mind ailord 

To pass a half hour here, unwearied, 
In calm reflection on life's slender cord. 

Step softly, then, and let thy silent tread 

Pay tribute to the dust of Ireland's honor'd dead. 



cxxrv. 

For scarce within its groined nave we turn. 

When we scan o'er us that self-written scroll 
Of him whose satire keen like fire couid bum ; 

Great in his day, yet reached he not his goal. 

O Swift, thy virtues I would fain extol. 
But reading next I feel how can I dare, 

For 'tis of Stella, patient, wounded soul. 
Who rests with thee beneath the marble there, 
And I recall her sorrows, and the lock of hair. 

^.'Pk f^"""' «;">;'y ('"her Md Km) during the put fifty 
g4n^h«e expended £350,000 in the reMontion of St Patrick't 



los 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ill 



Only a woman's hair, 'twas all she left 
Of a life given in faith and love to thee, 

And thou, vain trifler, this poor heart bereft 
Of love, and mocked her sweet fidelity, 
Her tender care, unsullied purity; 

But for her wronged thou sharedst the bitter fate 
Of guilt, remorse, and blighted memory; 

And so with charity we contemplate 

Thy life as like the ruin of an Empire great.* 



CXXVI. 

Time, the great mellower, levels men and things; 

Similitude advances with decay. 
And Swift and Rome, on time's fast fleeting wings 

More like appear the more they glide away. 

In distance, his great gifts and her proud sway 
Both wrecked upon the perishable sands 

Of unattained desires of mortal clay; 
He fretting like a bird in prison bands ; 
She rotting mid her glut of slaves from foreign 
lands. 

• Willum M. Thackerajr ujrt : " To think of Swift is Uke think- 
ing of the ruins of a great Empire." 



io6 



! S 



r fate 



ungs; 
wings 
sway 



foreign 



ike think- 




SHRIN'-..- 



\Ni) s;kvv 



(C/ 



I 



Only a woman's h;<ir 'wm nil >1). ' 
Of a life piven m ^ iirh and Inve ti,. ii" . 

And thou, i-ain trifler, thi.- p-xn heart hcifn 
Of love, and niocke.l her s\vert fi Irlity, 
Her tenjer care, unsiillicij purity ; 

Hut for her wiVing'd thou share "jt the bitter fate 
Of K^iilt <■■ r.se, and bliRhted memory; 

And si> witii i^iiarity we contemplate 

Th\ life as like the ruin if ai< (empire great* 



'igs; 



Time, 'he ^terft i!t;. --^n .nv! <h: 

SitTiilitiule advar;. ,• 
And Swift and Rome < .; ome'.-. i.v.^t rtteiuii^ wmgs 

More like ap(")oar -he more they glide awav. 

In distaix'e, his great ir^fts and her proud sway 
Both wrecked u[Kin the perishable "bands' 

Of imattained d<-<iires of mortal clav . 
He fretting like a i rd in pris. n bands; 
She rotting mid her glut of slaves from foreign 
lands. 



* William M. Th»<:l(«-»j Mys : " Ta think . 
oa ''< ikr ruin-. •*: ? i;rest Empire." 



^ 1^ like thinV- 



!06 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxxvn. 



But 



come, my muse, from sombre thoughto and 
scenes. 
From harrowing things and dead men's epitaphs 
beek me a spot which from the morbid weans, 
A land where Nature overjoyous laughs. 
And where her lover unobstructed quaffs 
Her richest bounties; where the mountains drest 

In azure mantles rise, with autographs 
Of angels written deep upon their crest; 
Who soanng earthward loved to linger there and 
rest. 



CXXVIII. 

Mactilbtuddy's Reeks, with purple heath 
O erspread, and yonder thro' the opening glade 
t!;"^'-^'^*'' ^^butus-fring'd, beneath 
The Devil s Punchbowl and the Tore Cascade 
It feeds— the rushing, dashing enfilade 

Between the Ukes; what charmed variety 
Of mount and lake and stream a« here displayed. 

Of beauteous sights what an infinity I ^ ' 

Where Laune flows gently down to Dingle and the 



1 

J 



109 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



Kenmare's proud seat, with its red sandstone towers, 
And Muckross, Herbert's ancient family pride ; 

Ross castle's walls, which ivy dense embowers. 
Where once O'Donoghue ruled far and wide, 
And where Muskerry Cromwell's hosts defied ; 

The Serpent's Grave, the Cottage of Kate Kearney ; 
Thro' Dunloe's Gap, that glorious mountain ride; 

Then, best of all, a day's run from Killamey, 

The home of Munster's ancient Kings, the Castle 
Blarney. 



cxxx. 

On that famed hill, beyond the walls of Cork, 

How legend doth enrich this classic place. 
And story and romance around it lurk 

Whose origin 'tis interesting to trace. 

Some say Macarthy, coming from the chase, 
A witch from drowning saved, who blest the stone; 

Some Jacob's pillow say the walls encase ; 
While other candid narrators depone 
'Twas given by Bruce, part of the famous one at 
Scone. 



no 






SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXXXI. 

To him whose lips have press'd this wondrous stone 

Are conquests given greater than of war: 
In woman's eyes he triumphs; he alone 

Can make wrong right with juries at the bar; 

Of Courts and Senates he's the rising star. 
O magic stone, whence comes thy virtue rare? 

How many eager pilgrims from afar 
Have kissed thy surface, and there are who dare 
To risk e'en life for charms they think are centred 
there. 



cxxxn. 

But now my stay in Erin's Isle must close. 

So well she's famed in story, and in songs 
Her honored sons the world all over knows. 

It knows, too, of her frailties and her wrongs; 

And how the one the other but prolongs. 
Ireland's peculiarities and habits queer 

Must be described by other pens and tongues ; 
Her sorrows have drawn many a patriot tear. 
Her hopes are soaring high that brighter days are 
near. 



tti 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



And so one autumn eve we sailed from Cork ; 

How ravishingly exquisite the scene : 
The sun was setting, but th' approaching dark 

Hung on a mirage of the palest green, 

Crown'd with a coronet of crimson sheen ; 
Mirror'd like blood along Lee's merchant file, 

With Shandon's tower outstanding bold between. 
That sublime sunset, hov'ring there awhile, 
Lent a befitting farewell to the Emerald Isle. 



cxxxiv. 

When husbandmen had gathered in their sheaves, 

And fall had chased the summer heat away. 
And gold and sombre hues had dyed the leaves. 

Chance sent me to North Devon's slopes to stay. 

And were it given to me to well forelay 
Over again a rural sojourn where 

The landscape Epicurean can survey 
Rich pastoral scenes and undulations rare 
I'd choose again the hills and dells of Devonshire. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXXXIII 

And so one autumn eve we sailed ■.iivm Cork; 

How ravishingly exquisite the scene 
The sun was setting, but th' approaching dark 

Hung on a mirage of the palest green, 

Crown'd with a coronet of crimson sheen ; 
:'.lirror'd like blood along Lee's merchant file. 

With Shandon's tower outstanding bold between. 
That sublime sunset, hov'ring there awhile. 
Lent a befitting farewell to the Emerald Isle. 



CXXIfv 

When husbondrricn !vai! jfaihrrn) ir. tni-ir nheaves, 

And fall had chased thr -tunuiitr lieat away 
And gold and sombre hues had dyed the leaves, 

Chance sent me to North Devon's slopes to stay. 

And were it given to me to well forelay 
Over again a rural sojourn where 

The landscape Epicurean can survey 
Rich pastoral scenes and undulations rare 
I'd choose again the hills and dells of Devonshire. 



■S, 



tay. 




SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxxxv. 

High up upon those heights above that vale 
Thro' which the Taw threads tortuous to the sea. 

Lovely at mom, or by the twUight pale 
Lies Nethergrove, and 'neath it Umberleigh, 
Tree-hidden, yet at night how cheerily 

Twinkle her lights when 'neath the western hills 
Sinks Phoebus to his rest. Here wood and lea 

And hedge and pasture cleft with many rills 

A sense of love of English country life instils. 



cxxxvi. 

Ai^ little Bickington's soft chime of bells 
Fillmg the air with silver-toned delights; 

Those dmgles fair, those rugged Devon fells 
Back to their charms the memory still invites 

M^f.rtr^^' ^"^'"^ Chittlehampton heights 
Recall the WeuLWorth azure slopes to me ; 

In these the same expansive stretch unites- 
^"'' '??■. ^ *ere, is landscape scenery, ' 
Where Ml and glen and copse and spire blend beau- 
ti fully. 



"5 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxxxvn. 

'Twas in that season when the autumn wanes, 

When driving winds sweep over vale and hill; 
When falling leaves choke up the narrow lanes. 

And moms are gray and evening shadows chill; 

When yellow fogs the streets of London fill. 
And old Sol rarely shads a downward glance; 

But leaves fall, rains to drench at their sweet will. 
And Devon's vistas blurr'd no more entrance, 
I quitted Albion's shores for charms of sunny 
France. 



V<* 



cxxxvin. 

" Great is our London!" Englishmen exclaim: 

The world's vast centre with her trade renown'd ; 
So Paris rests her title to the name 

Of " Beautiful " on uncontested ground. 

In art, in luxury, there is not found 
Her rival — splendid in the day, at night 

With sparkling streets and gardens all around; 
A dazzling prospect, exquisitely bright. 
How well has she been christen'd "The City of 
Light." 



ii6 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXXXIX, 

Look from the Arc de Triomphe, at the Star 
On which are blaion'd France's valorous deeds 

And records of her famous men of war. 
A panorama sweeps, which far exceeds 
C'lr utmost thoughts as one by one succeeds : 

Palace, and dome, and garden, matchless views, 
Which winding Seine between her pathway leads. 

While from our feet all round the eye pursues 

The vistas of twelve radiating Avenues. 



CXI,. 

A city, fair, with wondrous things to see. 
So many here 1 cannot touch upon ; 

Bois de Bologne and broad Champs Elysees, 
Sky-piercing Eiffel, massive Pantheon, 
Where rests great Hugo, her most gifted son; 

The Louvre, whose walls rare pictures beautify. 
But now my journey leads towards Trianon 

And palace, drives and gardens of Versailles, 

Those vanished glories of the kingly days gone by 



"7 



' .4RINES OLD AND NEW 



cxu. 

Th" unconquer'd Bourbons built these lordly halls, 

These fairy gardens of a royal race; 
These terraces, these founuins and these walls. 

And thro' these woods for miles pursued the chase. 

Here Kings reclined in woman's fair embrace. 
Here Maintenon, Dubarry, Pompadour 

Ruled, while their sires reign'd, and woman's face 
Seductive sway'd the Stete, and that fell hour 
Saw the decadence start of France's kingly power 



cxui. 

And led to revolution. A weak King, 
Well meaning, he, but lacking a firm wiD, 

Ruled by a comely Queen, that was the thing 
Which caused that blood and war which sent a 
thrill 

Of horror world-wide. The cloud darkened till 
The mob, with hatred of the Court embu-d. 

Went forth to plunc*-, desecrate and kill,' 
And from the despotis... of Kings subdued 
There rose the worse one of the enrag'd multitude. 



ii8 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxuii. 

O France! it may be— ia, I take it— true 
That thou to-day enjoyest liberty; 

But when on history's darkened page I view 
Those crimes it cost to make a people free, 
How scourged by these was poor humanity, 

How fallen low thy vaunted chivalry. 
An awful price was paid, it seems to m», 

And I recall poor Roland's mocking cry 

As she passed 'neath the shaft of Liberty to die 



cxuv. 

What crimes there were committed in that name! 

Come back to where the lordly Tuileries stood • 
Tis now a garden, since the Commune flame 

Devour'd it, but what thoughts and dreams of 
blood 

Are here, of Gironde, and the Mountain feud: 
DMton and Robespierre's short-lived power, a speU 

Ere they m turn increased the crimson flood, 
tach, raised by faction, by tlie scaflFold fell • 
That which grim ruin builds it soon destroys as well 



119 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cn.v. 

For m these scenes of carnage and of war, 
Which were to work their own swift retribution, 

New replaced old, even the calendar. 
And France broke on the rock of revolution 

'ru w '*"''!''' '" ""*'' '"^ the Constitution, 
The Mountain's enemies, the Mountain cower'd 
The Conunune, too. This chain of execution 
tach one by one destroyed and overpower'd 
And, Satim-Iike, its own weak offspring soon 
Jevoured. 



ft' 

i 



CXLVI. 

The Decemvirs and Reign of Terror o'er. 

But anarchy and carnage in their train. 

Left France embroiled in internecine war 

And plotting " coups " of the Directory's reien 
rJ,T^ ,f ^u* Napoleon, then on Egypt's plain,' 
Could quell these factions, stem these crims^jo 
streams. 
And bring stability to France again 
But all these peaceful, freedom-loving dreams 
l>oon vamshed in the unwise meeting of extremes 



120 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXLVIl. 

He came a victor from th' Egyptian field. 

The people's darling, saviour of the race; 
His arms had forced the neighboring States to yield; 

His name was worshipp'd in the market-place. 

He stay'd to play the tyrant, not efface; 
That which men hoped he'd save, he stay'd to kill ; 

Force assumed sway, 'twas but a little space 
Till liberty was dead, and all was still, 
Save his troops' march, and voice of his commanding 
will. 



cxLvni. 

Let us to ancient Notre Dame now stray. 
Where in the Reign of Terror Reason sate. 

Here, ten years later, one December day. 
Tired of the little name of Consulate, 
With pontificial unction, regal stafe, ' 

With suppliant mob, with nations at his feet. 
This man was crown'd Napoleon the Gi«at'. 

In what short space the circle was complete- 

Weak tyrants slain I A giant in the tyrant's seat ! 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxux. 
Snips upon which his anny'd cast no lo^k 



ct. 
But hush! we reach th' Eglise des Invalides 
^i«coed with many Saints, our wandering leads 

O man of destiny, the like of whom 
Never befo« had lived, or ever S 
Who ^r* r'''"°" '"«^ *« to thy doom 

S w'SSd^Tatr^t'Sf "' '"^^ ^^ 
' " "y ♦«**' *y sway invincible. 



i3a 



<*f\ 






^ T 



(vht'h t"'' .'''"■' '.'"'' «"'■'*"="• ""tchlMs views 
Wh,ch wmd.ng hc,.,e between her pathw,y"cad,." 

(S«t! pife ,1^.^ 



SHRINES OLD AW NEW 



cxux 

Distant, Morm-sweot urirh v > . ° ^°°^- 

*url<i. ^""y ^'n'^ 3 conquer'd 



? ( 

it ' 

I i 



But hush' *•' -*.■■, -i. 1. r- 



1 • 

II i 



d. 

ler took 

ireck'd, 

yk 

ie; 

rl'd, 
iquer'd 



I 



ds 




(Sm page II,.) 



SHRINES OLD AND N£W 



cu. 
Great conqueror of Austerlitz's field I 
If only then thou'dst stayed thy lust of nower 

wS S^'r ^",i°«'oW to th,i the hour 
Kingly might be, not of an exile o^r 



CUI. 
But, history, thou must not engross my theme 

To bngh er dimes, where days of winter seem 
To^njeltm gladness 'neath'a sun::^";,,^ 

On^r ? • "'•""°'* ^*^« her saffron dj^e 
On some Rivjenan slope, whose balmy air 

SfjuXhi^hr^^r^""'"-' 

there. ""^ "^ °"^' *°"J<J linger 



MS 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLUI. 

Till spring once more my home with soft'ning ray 
Calls back to life. So Var's vineclad demesne. 

Where " les Maurettes " slant down to Hyeres Bay; 
And Hyeres herself rests dreamily between, 
'Mid terraced plots and cork groves darkling 
green, 

We chose, and chose well, for our winter stay. 
Bright, peaceful, charming, every turn and scene. 

And there, one long unclouded summer's day 

I stroU'd and mused and dreamt th' 0ysian months 
away. 



m 



CUV. 

Here in this garden, wreathed in fruits and flowers, 
And domed with cloudless blue Italian skies, 

'Mid violet and rose-encircled bowers 
The tired soul finds a restful Paradise, 
Far moved from life's upheaving, struggling cries, 

Or call of commerce, or the mart's alarms. 
Or rival's keenly penetrating eyes. 

Here vine-clad peaks with verdant tap'ring forms 

Appal not like their Alpine fellows' thund'ring 
storms. 



ia6 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cw. 
Here mimosean banks of ytllow glory 

Tu^'"r^?. °^''* *^'""' ''"y* °* *" 'heir ^oom; 
mere hillside gardens, story upon stoty 
Cast over all their hyacinth perfume; ' 
pJ^I »«?,^*'-^ «'«* whole fields of varied bloom, 
t rwn lordly viUas, roofed with redden'd tiles • 

W^l!'°?' ^J- ^*™'f' Cross and Chateau 1^; 
While o er her Bay, 'mid scintillating .miles 
Kise from the blue the crests of Hyires' golden Isles. 



CLVI. 

Lo I Giens, with emerald pea-fields flow'ring sweet. 

And drooping, odor-laden asphodel 
Bordered with rows of creamy marguerite* 

1 lingered here one evening as there fell 

nt^r"'^ "P°° ** «" *« °«»n and swell 
r^^* **?"' *° ""'^ *h"e loomed afar 
JJes Oiseaux s mount, o'ertow'ring Costebelle- 
And white San Salvador, and like a staP ' 
Just nsmg, shone the villa light of Almanarre. 

.ttiUn. .Sih, of i^\ii",* "^ •*"•>« tree. wUd. ™ 



'a? 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



civn. 

Across the Bay, and on this restful eve, 

With moaning surge, with Oiseaux tow' ring high, 

And further on Peneuillet's crags which cleave 
Like some dark silhouette the summer sky, 
Crown'd with their cross — a mimic Calvary. 

Methought the water's dirgeful, sadd'ning moan 
Told of the wail of human misery. 

And those far heights the dusk around them grown. 

Distant and deep and still, heaven's mysteries seem'd 
t' enthrone. 



cvrm. 

The starry cistus covers every hill. 

Here purple spangled, there a faultless white ; 
Sweet flowering lavenders the valleys fill 

With their aroma of a rare delight. 

The laurel in its varied ganr.ents bright 
Here dwells in many species high and low. 

The almond-tree, prophetic in the sight 
Of the great Preacher,*on these slopes doth grow, 
And sheds °!s blossom like great banks of driven 
snow. 

'"And the almond tree shall flouriih." — Ecdenaitea xii. t. 



138 



SHRINKS on AN'D .VEW 



I 



Acri-ss the Bay. ami on Uih re.",''-' pvp. 

With nviaiiinjj surpe. wiih i .Jfi .. ;i ■• tmv'rtiig high, 
And furtlier on Keiieuillrt's ctaj;* *»- ch cleave 

Like some dark silhmiclte the sumni'-r -kv. 

Crown'd with their cross — a mimic Calvary. 
Methought t^ie water's dirgeful, sadd'nmg moan 

Told of the wail of human misery. 
And those far heights the diisk around them grown, 
Distant and deep and still, heaven's mysteries seem'd 
r' enthrone. 



The starry rutus rovers »%'.ry nAi 

Here pun->le .spani^td, ?he' < t=it;!-if?s white; 
Sweet flowering lavenders the vailtys iill 

With then aroma of a rare delight. 

The laurel in its varied garments bright 
Here dwells in many species high and low. 

The almond-tree, prophetic in the sight 
Of the great Preacher.*on these s1o|ks doth grow. 
And sheds its blossom like great banks of driveii 
snow. 

•*' \nd the almond tree shall flourish.*' — Ecdesi&stej xii. v. 



128 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



s: 



cux. 

InS^ '""J'* r- *'* *"«lyptu» tree. 
In shwldmg forth each it. own rare perlu.ne- 

And cactus, aloe, and .piked agavi ' 

Stand n„d great palm, in verdant rivairv 

Zl tnT'""' ""' '''■* '^Wte entwine? 
R.«^f Tt i°^"" "*« '" «yninietry. 
««««tful I depart from thy confine^ 

spreading pine.. ' 



CLX. 

°"1„T/,.'*1',^'^'"'» ">«'"• hall,. 

And teU of Venice', decadent rtkr. 
X Iwve to smg again of battle calls, 
And .t.r and sound, and strategy of war 
And armies marrhing eager to the fo«^ 
But yet there flashed no'glitteriLg ^bi^^bkre 

ArtiUenr's thund'rings we« nft he^d afa;. 
No°r Zl '^^ ^=^L"°;.^oans to Shtai'r; 
Zf^ ""^ °"*' «•'' '«•» nor sor;ow 

««mbUn, our whit. ^lSo,^V,." !i"* ■*»». ««h 
clMteri of tilt ripe i^" "■»«»■•. •Itenutwl Willi deq> hlqe 

131 



( 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXI. 

The fidd was Nice, the ammunition flowers, 
And Flora in the lead, their Goddess Queen, 

Led forth her hosts 'mid changing sun and showers. 
And tho' no other signs of war were seen. 
Of wounds and prisoners there were scores, I 
ween. 

For Cupid fought and aimed his arrows straight. 
And captives took, this love god hymenean; 

Nor did I see that aught deplored their fate 

As I surveyed that field despoiled and desolate. 



CLXII. 

A field with soiled rose, and violet trodden. 
Which but an hour before bloomed fresh and 
sweet; 

With boughs of almond and white lilac sodden, 
Stih fragrant, tho' begrim'd beneath my feet 
What scene of desolation more complete. 

Had mortal men instead of flowers warr'dl 
And from this floral ruin and defeat 

There rose the thought, how many fair ones marr'd 

Of choicest flowers of life by hate and malice 
scarr'd. 



133 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ctxm. 

Malice, thou scorpion ! Hate, thou poisonous snake I 
I «, ^^^^^^ sorrow and undoing flow from thee; 
T The names ye blacken and the hearts ye break 
Fill up a space vast as eternity I 
For women's virtue, man's integrity, 
Ye care but nought, your belchings never cease; 

Ye do eat up the innocent with glee. 
Ruthless destroyers of man's life and peace. 
Deadlier than trampling hosts that soiled the flowers 
of Nice. 



CLXIV. 

'Twas from Italian shores that our first school 

Of poetry was brought, that kindling spark. 
By the famed Chaucer lit, to overrule 

Our former rtyles and manners, crude and dark. 

The School of Dante, and the great Petrarch, 
Which too mspired Surrey's purity. 

And Wyatt's lofty thought. Here we embark 
On modem verse, and thus we owe to thee 
And thy learned sons a priceless oebt, O Italy 



m 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXV. 

Hail, Genoa! glittering; 'neath Sperone's hill,* 

Worthy in history is thy career! 
For tho' by war and faction harais'd, still 

Thou wert upon the deep the pioneer. 

Thou gav'st that mighty sailor, bora to steer 
The way to newer worlds and destiaies; 

Who found o'er tracklcst^ waves a bemiiphere, 
And bore light's banner over darkened teas. 
Cohunbosl worthiest of th' undaunted Genoese. 



CLXVI. 

Near where Bisagno's swollen torrent pours 

Between Genoa's hills, there is a space 
Where Campo Santo's storied corridors 

Form for her dead a peerless resting-place. 

For ne'er did craftsman chisel with more grace, 
Nor sculptor's hand such priceless art supply, 

Which cuts Carraran tears i^)on the face, 
Streaming in sorrow from the weeping eye. 
And carves the look of grief, and even the mourner's 
sigh. 

* Then are fourteen fortiHed hilli, wimt of the Uiuriaa Alpa, 
rarroundins the city, of which the chief, Sperone (meaning a 
•pur) attaiaa a height of 1,70a feet. 



134 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ne, 



ajtvn. 

But Campo Santo has another spot 
Beneath those treasures on her hillside steep 

Where nchly carven images are not 
Where not the great, but just the lowly sleep 
And here at night do myriads vigil ke« 

And bum their many^Iored funeral lamps- 
A wondrous vision, as the eye doth sweep 

Is'of i fi'^H^''t~u'" P"^^'"« bought it st^mips 
Is of a field on which at night an anny cam^^ 



mer's 



• Alpt, 
aiag m 



ctxvin. 
I Stood among the dazzling minarets 

Charmed and entranced the traveller forgets 
Am'd the saints and martyrs carven there * 
L.fesbusthng calls. To m,rth a vista r^ 

ReZ"'?^'" ""f '°"'""« "-i^ticair 
WMuTJu^ ""')''«'"'' distance-mellow'd glare 
Wh. e stretchmg far around him he may J 
Fertde m wheat and silk the plains of Lombardy. 

«^or.ir. o° 'r. '^t;^, ti^. ■"*•■= ««i«. <» *. 

cbardi. °" "'"'• "■•rtjrr, ipo.tle or father of the 



135 



SHRINES OLD AND IfEW 



CLXIX. 

I saw Lake Como mountain-circled creep 

Northward, jwd whiten'd peaks their rfiadows 
throw 
Into her mirror many fathoms deep, 

Fed by eternal streams from Alpine snow. 

I saw along her shore Bellagio, 
Studded with villas of the Milanese, 

Around which palms and rare exotics grow ; 
And bays, where mighty glaciers towered, these 
Recall'd in mimic our fam'd emerald-dyed Louise. 



CLXX. 

Venice! thou ancient city of the sea. 

Where sands of centuries from Alps defiles 
Had formed those shoals on which men fa*ioned 
thee; 

None other like thee rismg on t^ piles. 

Artistic bridges threading 'twixt thine Ides : 
And many a dome and sea-girt portico. 

Sparkling with Oriental gens and styles. 
Thou art not of to-day— no Ioniser glow 
Thy fires, thy greatness and prestige of long afo. 



136 



shadows 



jrow; 
, these 
I Louise. 



fariiioned 



kles; 



'«p:ji 



^'^ 



les. 

w 

ongi 



ftt^ 






SHRINES Ol-M v\-D NEW 



I saw I^nke Como moiinta;n-circ]e..i creeji 

Northward, and whitfnM peak? their iihndows 
throw 
Into her mirror many fathoms dee]i 

Fed by eternal stream-: from Alpine snow. 

r saw along her shore Bellagio. 
Studded with villas of the Milanese, 

Around whiih pahns and rare exotics grow , 
And bays, where mighty glaciers towered, these 
Rei.-aird n mimic our fam d rnier.ild-d-ed Louise. 



Venice ! thou aiivent Htv ■ 'f '^f ■*:< 

W here sands "f cen'tiries from .Mp*: defiles 
Had forjned tiiu^ sh.^ls on which men fashioned 
thee; 

None other like thee rising on thy piles. 

Arti.stic hridges threading "twixt thine Tsles; 
.And manv a dome and sea-girt portico. 

Sparkling with Oriental "ems and styles. 
Thou art not of to-day — i, longer glow 
Thy hres. thy greatness and prestige of long ago. 



136 




o..^r^SfJ•;^;^-."2:^?^ 



marble temple." 



(See 



P^'ee 135.) 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXXI. 

Where are those scenes on which the artists dwell 
Of which rare tales attracted childhood's ear? 

Where are those songs of which the poets tell- 
The sensuous carols of the Gondolier, 
Whose only canticles that now we hear 
u^ *"*' "*"** °" *' midnight air? 

TK . /"^u ''.°" ™"°'"'' ">« <«d on=e revere? 

That faith with reverence calling men to prayer?* 

The long dead echoes of the pasi alone say where. 

of the early Wtk knll^^ «tiUe<l VeneHui Life," " the rablinitr 

Rtuiuuce church.. - ulZZ^ '' ™y™"ridg .plrit of the 
bitter je.t .ndbyw"rdh.. ,.„!'*''?• J" "^ '^ K""*^ 
-V «.Uln thc'l^er of aVIpo^" '''' "* *« '*"«'' *•« " 



<39 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CIXXII. 

te .fee ^ »«l»rrt'^ ,„ 

cutxni. 

«SL'^* ''^™^ -"'=" -"^ the h«« 
Unhurt by all thy ruin of to^ay; 
The music of thy bells upon the brine • 

But what tc n7e doTm^,^,f' *'''°"'^"« ''°^«- 
Are memories «f h;. • T. ^ " ""^ ">oves 



140 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



r foe. 
and low, 
glory, 
!stow; 

»fy. 

!d story. 



5 heart 



loves, 
ine 
)ves 
id his 



« 



CLXXIV. 

O Byron! fretting child of destiny; 

Maligned and sour'd by slander's cruel blast 
A wanderer from thy home and patrimony; 

First feted, then by whilom friends outcast. 

By Scotch reviewers mocked, reviled, harass'd. 
Like meteor bursting on the stariit night. 

Thy wondrous verse outshone that of the past- 
And, like th' impalW Eastern insect's light 
Thme anguish only made thy genius bum more 
bright 



(XXXV. 

""'wu ^"l ° '"""'• *"" «P«"' *y brightest days. 
When charms of Albion and thy kin were gone 

OfVenice thou hast penn'd thy noblest lays. 
Here thou couldst drink in freedom, here alone 

A^Z f M^ '^f^'' ^*"' '^y ™*»"" done. 
And what a blessed privilege to be free! 

No other gift could for thy wrong, atone. 

No more than human fount could satisfy 

A parched soul, thirsting for immortality I 



»4i 



tMOIOCOn tlSOlUTION TBI CHA«I 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 




|2J 
13.2 



lii 



2.2 



^ly^ij^ 



^ APPLIED IM.1GE Inc 

^^^ 1653 East Main Slr««t 

■*.S Rocnatler, New York 14609 USA 

'■= <''*) *82 - 0300 - Phons 

^S '''^) 2U-59B9 -f<n 



-p 



■^ 



t, :M 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

CLXXVI. 

Nor did thy championship of freedom cease 
When here thou felt thy galling fetters fall. 

Thy heart was moved for crush'd, downtrodden 
Greece, 
And answering quick th' enslaven Hellene's call, 
Thou freely gave thy means, thy Ufe, thine all, 

And liberty's proud banner grandly led. 
And Missolonghi, weeping, saw thy pall 

Refused a tomb 'mid England's honor'd dead.* 

O'er thee than ovet- these more genuine tears were 
shed. 

CLXXVII. 

Thou hadst thy faults, and great ones — who has not? 

Wayward thou wert, and egotistical; 
Thou soil'd life's page with many a marring blot, 

Yet playing in thy time thy part full well. 

Thy poetry remains imperishable. 
The saint may shun, the prude may banish it, 

But nowhere else doth genius more excel; 
No utterances than thine more apt or fit. 
Kindled with passion's fire, or brimming o'er with 
wit. 

* It wu propowd to bury Bjrron in Weitmiiuter Abbey, bat the 
Deao and Cbapter refuted their content He had himielf tx- 
preated a with to be buried on the Venetian Udo, hit faTorite 
retort when a retident of Venice, but hit remaini reat in the 
ancettral vault at Hucknall. near Newitead. 
14a 



J . 
I. 



^ 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXxvni. 

Florence! once rent by Guelph and Ghibelline,* 
How glorious is thine ancient history. 

What lustrous names around thee do entwine. 
Worthiest of all the matchless Angelo, he 
Alone of men who triumphed in all three 

Of the fine arts; Machiaveili, patriot, sage; 
Galileo, brightest light of Italy, 

And of the world, Raphael, than whom no age 

Gave loftier name to master-painter's page. 



CLXXIX. 

And Dante! he who wrote of heaven and hell. 

Who in those allegoric visions trod 
The infinite, consigning men to dwell 

Many in realms of darkness, some with God.f 

On whom in after years affliction's rod 
Fell sore, whose well-spent life and noble race 

Gave no reward, not even an abode 
In thee his home, and who to thy disgrace 
Evan in death thou didst refuse a resting-place. 

«I7,'f.*! r™ '"*''"* '"■I™'"« f" •«!' in Florence from the 
rw Ills for over iso revi, liU the riie of the Medici. 

I«hJ™ 'J!^'"'' '"l"*"* »"««". ""wert thmt this h.bit of pre- 
Bfa*i?n'"T"" Plore«tino Md coorigmng their «ml, durii 

world, majr have had much to do with Dante'i nibieqiieiit u- 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 
cixxx. 

On Donatello', h.-M T "^^'^^s tree 

But written ;5 ' "°' ""*' of Italy 

Browning cToiehLTT '"""■" *°"^«- 
On this wSd^t^^f! i"-'rious th, 
fully. "^ '''^'°«' d knoll rest pe, 

CI,XXXI. 

^s^iiKittr™-''"- 

And aromatic t«es aCl k ^''^"' "^"^ '>>> 

Caressingly wave oVrl™''' '""' ''°'^«" 
„ The yellf^ o^^le and '^Z ''""'''"^ "y. 
Here make th«r t.„ ""* ""itterfly 

Turns t tdl^CT^J- thei^oonlight pa 
And all around^^L. '•'"'' ^"^«"' ^ky, ^ ^ 
Here PipesI" so"nfo ^e ^ °* r ^: 
"•■"^H., „a ,„,^J ; 7' ** ^°"^y nightingale. 

5."' "c,:\^"r ^^^^^^^^^ of s.^r.^r r -"' '^« «»„ 

WM prerented from 
144 



NEW 



rose and son?- 
tree *' 

"g 

ive sung 

taly, 

ngue. 

istrious three 

)11 rest peace- 



hours 
oth lie, 
wers 
' by. 

'oni'ght pale 

I 
rhtingale. 

»M that Don- 
i by Dante in 
■wed • home- 
'We to return 
>a wu buried 
■«nici a tomb 
"fenfed from 




SirRI.VtS tii.D.AVij NEW 



f ■. I 



f ! 



I ^ 



Ri:t not ^i..„s ,,, „,,t„ ,i, 

JAveit f^flonoiis name'; ,n .. , j 

S!"..ie.J by n>nnv a sp, re like ' v^ '"'^'' '"'' '' 
On Donatollo's hill I «,roil.d am->,,, 
J ny modem tioft sleenerv ^h i 

Wcon„.en„^ . .erse:r :„:';;, rr""*^ 

CI.XXXI 

The ,f il u 1 . •'•H.- ,.ic,i suni-TKr hours 

A.Hf aroma..,.: rr.>^> ,„„; ..h,,;l.* „. " ; "• 
CaressinjeU vvriv» , „. ,,, ' "'' "' ""' 

Here mnke the. ■:;:'^:,^:,'-"-«V 
Turns to a .i.^p^lU,^i"T" '7^°""?htp 

An<u„ around n'i,,,;';';:;:r/r;;vs 

Herep,pe.,.„on,of,ovethe,oneTniingaIe 

f' ™ ". ■= ijj:. MiohaH At,<rr' , rf "'''"'' "-'I »»« tori 
m FJorencc worthy „, th= gr«° „™ 'h'"'^ " """"■« » -O' 
aomj so. «"=*' fw. but was prevcnttd frc 

144 



NEW 



~-^^t anri song; 



ave sung 

ii;.!v, 

n.strioiis three 
loll rest peace- 



nours 
*.>ih iie, 

■.' ,"f rs 
■'g hv 

I'wnlight pale 

ail, 
ightingale. 

^ '"M that Don 
^'d liy Dante ir 
ndcn-d a liornt 
inable to rettirr. 
and was burjiv. 
instruct a torn: 
Prcventtd fror 




SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



And an San Miniato's lofty height 
L.« England's great rejected Labouchere;* 

^ereT;° '^l'^''' *"'« *y stream', unitef 
ihere is a sacred spot where bards deheht 

ode^ ^ " ""^ noblest 

K»l«poor, now rtiadi " '^""'=«' '^^ <=•■«««, PoW of 

t The " Ode to the W«.t wi.j .■ ••. .. 

We.t W..d," the divinert of Englidl W«. 



M7 






fi til 
f 



-*i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

cucxxiii. 

What brought these gifted spirits to thy gates, 

Enchanting city of the Apennines? 
Was it that here one better contemplates 

The treasure hid in thy u'.irival'd shrin*^ 

Of art which educates, uplifts, refines? 
Was it some charm about thy slc>', thine air. 

Or that the sun on thee moje genial shines? 
Is there more peace in 'hee, less harrowing care? 
What found tl.sse beings here they could not fine 
elsewhere? 



CIXXXXV. 

These questions are unanswered, for there falls 

While I thus muse o'er charms of Tuscany 
Upon the ear th' Eternal City's calls; 

And visions of the proud old Medici ; 

And Pitti Palace, with its Boboli,* 
Whose frescoed walls once made a royal home, 

Fades, as against the setting sun I see, 
Dark'ning the crimson sky, a mighty dome 
Which tells the traveller he like Lothair " beholds 
Rome."+ 

*Caiino, gmtett of the Medici, piirchued the Pitti PiUcc 
in IS49 ud conitnicted the Boboli Gtrdeni the next yat foi 
his wife. The palace waa built bjr the famoua BnineUeaehi foi 
Lucca Pitti, a wealthy private Florentine amUtioaa to outriTal 

148 



SHRINES OLD AND KEW 



I 



cucxxv. 
Our sccphcsm, no. even give a doubting Si 

CLXXXVI. 

And on the Slope of royal Palatine 

wa1hru;^rS3"f ' J-'^r.^ '''"'«■- "-^ 

A«juffoS"re:;tiSe t'^r''^ 

AuJu'^ ^ *'"' ""ther wolf until 
cscued the babes their uncle rtrove to kill 
And^saved the founder of the City on the Ml. 



8 



149 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXXXVII. 

How many flights did Pilate's house contain, 
If they are real, all these holy stairs? 

If holy boards are genuine they would drain 
The mangers of all Palesti it. If prayers 
Are made to real bones ot martyrs, where's 

There left a corpse in any of Rome's tombs? 
Despoiled must be her vaults and sepulchres. 

For so replete with these remains are Rome's 

Altars and shrines she must have robbed her cata- 
combs. 



cixxxvni. 

In Tivoli, among the Sabine mountains. 
Where Anio leaps in silvery cascades, 

I saw a garden of a hundred fountains 
Still beautiful, tho' time's encroaching raids 
Have marr'd its urns, its busts, its colonnades. 

Here the great D'Este, son of the Borgian, 
Once strolled amid his gods and nymphs and 
shades 

Above the kingly seat that Hadrian 

Ages before in lust of pride and power began 



^So 



- 0. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CLXXXIX. 

But did not finish, for death's stronger hand 



cxc. 
O vanished glories of ambitious men, 

Cn^^hun' * C^'f-one of media-val age» 
Cmmbled away the pile of Hadrian, ^ 



iSi 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CXCI. 

I stood on the Tarpeia, whence were hurled 
10 death, thro' an immensity of space, 

The malefactors of the Roman world. 
But long ago has vanished every trace 
Of what suggests an execution place 

Or retnbution on a traitrous foe. 
No more does death Tarpeia's rock disgrace 

Above are garden paths where flowers grow. 

While peaceful dwellings cluster 'round its base 
below. 



cxcn. 

Near Severus' Arch one day a linnet trill'd, 

Entreed above an excavated moat. 
His little voice that ancient Forum fUl'd. 

One wondered how from such a tiny throat 

Could swell so strong yet sweet a piping note 
I thought of sounds of discord, battle clang 

Which used in ages long ago to float 
Among these arches, and how, too, there rang 
The voice of Cicero where now the warbler sang 



«5« 



base 



>g- 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 
cxcin. 

-rinFi'r^ ^"'"' ^""i' '■" bas-relief- 
Who £; camvt-Ho '"" "'^''""^' ^''' 

cxciv. 
^1u,S" P?°'«\gate, with filth and noise • 

«S3 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

cxcv. 

And what a modest stone this youthful Greek 
(For Greek in spirit and in art he was), 

And what a poor inscription did he seek.f 
" His name was writ in water." Why? Because 
He feared the malice of his powerful foes 

Had conquered ; but 'twas not to be, his name 
Outlives them all, and thio' the ages grovrs 

Brighter and brighter, writ in lasting flame 

Which time can never quench, nor criticism tame. 



A little further, in a choicer spot,* 

Sleeps the great heart of Shelley, shadow'd o'er 
With dark'ning cypress. Tell mel did I not 

Speak of a debt which we in days of yore 

Owed to this land for poet's borrow'd lore? 
'Twas given to these that debt to fully pay, 

Shelley and Keats, had Eng^nd given no more; 
For where, O Muse, can rest sublimer clay. 
Where mingle dust and ashes worthier than they? 

t The exact woMs cmtred on the nnmll, white mirble head- 
stone are: **Thii grave contains all that is mortal of a young 
English poet, who on his deathbed in the bitterness of his heart 
at the malicious power of his enemies desired these words to be 
engraven on his tombstone ; ' Here lies one whose name was writ 
in water.' February S4th, 1831." 

•There is a great contrast between the resting-place of each. 
While Keats' grave is in a bare, flat, and sometimes, I am told, 
inundated part of the cemetery, Shelley's lies at the head of a 

IS4 



r'd o'er 



more; 



he*d- 



I to be 



ce of ttch. 
I am told, 
head of a 




r 



SHRINES OI !• ANI- NEW 



Aril! what a modest «tone this yori!ih;l Greek 
(For Greek in spirit and in art hr was/. 

And what a poor inscriptum did hr seek -t 

" His name was writ in water." W-n-; lif.-ause 
He feared the malice of his powertui t" *<! 

Had conqiiefed; but 'twas not to be, hi? nai]:f 
Outlives them all, and thro' the ages grows 

Brighter and brighter, writ in lasting flame 

Which time cap never quench, nor criticism tame. 



A hirl..' ljiri..-r ,»■ ., ■.h')'--er ?:' it,* 

Slcj-jK !hf: j:re:it bea:; ■■: h.".eUey. shadow'd o'er 
With drirk'iiine -vyre-.* '"pH irK: ' i^id .1 not 

Slx'iik ot a lieb? which Me il :wy5 'li ■■ trr 

Owed to this land fiT jxnn .^ txir^v- r lire? 
'Twas given to thes« that ddrt to luliy pay, 

Shelley and K'at?. Ii.id Kt'gland given no more; 
For where, O Mu>e, can rest sublimer clay 
Where mingle dust and ashes worthier than they? 

t The exact w^rda can'ed on the amall, white marble head 
stone are: "This grave contains all that t;^ mrr'al of a youn. 
Kntilish poet, who on his deathljed in the bitterness of his hear 
3t the malicious power of his enemies lie'ired these words to iv 
engraven ou his tombst.^ne : ' Here lies "Jie whose name wai wr- 
in water" February i4th. i8ji." 

• 7 here is a great contrast between the resting-place oi ea^^ 
WKiie Keats' grave is in a liarc. flat, and sotnctimes, I am to 
tutindated j>art of the cemetery. Shelley's lies at the head O' 

«S4 



• i 

■I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 
cxcvn. 

^"■nL^ut'^^^'^A^^"' *''"« Keats died 

Neath Tnn.ta Del Monte's towers twai" 
Adn„r*rs from both hemispheres provTdT' 

A well stored sanctuary, chaste if plain; 

Where lovers of these glorious two obta n 
The.r rehc^'fs the fittest of retreats, 

High up above the noisy and profane. 

rh«»r-^ "P?" '°°"" °"«= «>™t greets 
Chenshed remembrances of Shelley and of Keats. 

CXCVIII. 

•T« Easter! and Rome's len; n fast is done- 

Her pen.tent.al Tenebraes are o'er 
And homes are blest, and citizens pui on 

I watched her thousands in thanksgiving pour 
Into Sa.nt Peter's, an inspiring sighfl ^^"' 

Those hosts on .ts vast tesselated floor- 
M.d sweeping trains in red and gold and white 
Of cardinal and priest and lowly acolyte 

Udy Meredith, daughter of th. m • Y"=°™« Barrington. 
"icon., Udy Pa«e Tu™., B- T^ "■""" °' Conyngham, Lady 
Hon. HenTwal^e r„f tfriiriof nT'i S"*- "RS.. tti 
fc»".om, M.P., Briti,h Under.se^;^°' °fVf: "5"^ S. Winter- 
JJn«n, Mary and WUliam HowiU ^7*/ ^Vl '" '""• Baron 

IS7 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



cxcix. 

One evening I was looking over Rome 
For the last time from that superb ascent, 

Embracing town and hill, Janiculum, 
Crown'd by great Garibaldi's monument 
There stood the Coliseum ruin-rent; 

^"ij" g^°^ of Caesar's mammoth palaces; 
The range how vast, the spot how reverent. 

For here the oak where Tasso rested is. 

And It£i/s renown in poetry is his. 



cc. 

With Petrarch's and with Ariosto's name 
His famed "Jerusalem " she'll ever link. 

Imprifon'd, 'twas not given to him to claim 
.iliat which his fertile mind, his pen and ink 
Produced, 'twas purioin'd;* while upon the brink 

Of madness he was tortured, sorely tried. 
Bitter remorse's dregs were his to drink; 

A restless wanderer, by the world decried. 

Peace on Janiculum he found and here he died. 

a..' ^h J.«r "". ""^^ i" * ■""'-''™« " St Ann., thnrngh 
Mlem DcUvered," ud pubUibed it for hii own b«ntft 



158 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ca. 

Undone by w«nan'« wiles, the «une sad tale 

Uf Herod s dancer— in a cliarger borne 
a«iuse he had to female tempter sw™r^' 

FeZ:-^ ^/P^"'' •"*"•• «>«<*'* W™ 
Of h^wl^"^ '''"" '"'"'y had the mom 
Of his br ght genms pass'd, the siren spell 
Of the D'Este sisters proved invincible 



ceil. 
Lucrezia first displays her amours bold 
And woos the bard within her palace' walls • 
rit""""^'* P^"*'"" doth unfS 
And he whom princes, popes and cardinals 

A "rtimTIl ■ ^^T ^""^= ""^'^^ght falls 
Pn^w Z'^ ''"™^- 'thrice doth he BO 

Odys^us' homeless wanderings, and so 

Fate bnngs hm, bowed and bent to Saint Onifrio 



159 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CCIII. 

I said my range was vast, for it in space 

Swept o'er the Sabine and the Alban Hills; 
And the Campagna, which these Hills embrace 

Bursting in verdure where the gardiner tills. 

But what a world of time this vision fills I 
While Rome first rose, and fell, and rose again. 

What deeds of valiant men it chronicles ; 
What acts of heroes crowd upon my brain; 
Of crimes and enmities and judgments what a train I 



cciv. 

That Forun yonder which Rome's founders till'd. 

And Csei,ars piled with rostrum and with fane, ' 
In mediaeval centuries was filled 

With ruins and became once more a plain. 

Thus history repeats itself again. 
That Coliseum, massive, broken, bare; 

Where cruel tyrants saw the Christians slain 
By beasts, what Satumalian carnage there I 
Could spectral walls have words what tales would 
these declare I 



160 




' a 



SHRINES 01.r> ^ND NEW 



I said my range was vast, for tt m sim< t 

Swept o'er the Sabine aiul llic Al!..i'i \hlU, 
And the Campapna, which these Hills rnibraie 

Riirsting in verdure where the gardener tills. 

But what a world of time this vision fills ! 
Vhile Rome .irst rose, and fell, and rose again, 

What deeds of valiant men it chronicles ; 
What acts of heroes cr.iwd ujxjn my brain ; 
Of cnmc' and cruelties and judgments what a train! 



That f-'orum v-u.>>i who!' K'>rr,r v r.Hirnkr" till'd, 

And Caisars piled with rostnun and witi. .'ane, 
In n edi.-eval centuries was filled 

V\ itli ruins ami liei imc once more a plain. 

Thus history repeats itself again. 
Th:; Coliseum, massive, broken, bare; 

W here cruel tyrants saw the Christi.in-- Iain 
By toasts, what Saturnaiian carnage there ! 
Coi d spectral walls hav: words what tales would 
these declare! 



i6o 







f 



" In the P.azM d'E.pagna where Keats d-ed." 

(See page 157.) 






,! 



% 






SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ccv. 
Built by the captive Jews Vespasian brought 

trom Zion on the site of Nero's Lake- 
Here too, poor gladiators met and fought 

And d.ed that Rome might her amusement take. 

It trembled, partly fell in the great quake 
t)ix centuries ago, bui was restored 
WhnM?lu^^ Christians' and the martyrs' sake, 
Who fell there, to the passion of our Lord 
Was consecrate until the modem vandal horde 

CCVI. 

Pillaged its treasure.* But the eye runs on 
Over the tombs along the Appian Way, 

And-exqmsitely poised-Rome's Panthron 
Agnppa built,t and which unkind decay 

Th.'!^ } \"?^^""'^ ^™'" ^^"^ '°ng distant day: 
The pnde of Italy, thro' whose opening ^ 

Above there falls, on entering, a ray 
Of the sun's light, softly illumining 
The sculptured tombs of painter, cardinal and king ± 

163 



ill 
>'l 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

ccvn. 

What medley of strange peoples, things, ideas, 
Italian farm life in the mind instils. 

We pass between whole hedges of spireas; 
Young peasant women laving in the rills;* 
Qld aqueducts which from the Alban Hills 

Brought Csesar water. Here th- yeoman plows 
With milk-white oxen; here the gardener tills 

His newly leafing vineyard as it grows 

On slender bamboos or across the orchard rows. 



ccvm. 

Here stand great gnarled olives that have seen 
Close on a thousand years; and avenues 

And groves of ilex. And amid the green 
Grass on our way are crimson-dotted hues 
Of poppies, which like drops of blood infuse 

Their dye. And herds of goats encircle us, 
Whose milk, in place of kine's, th' Italians use. 

And nearing Naples, fertile, beauteous. 

Orchards stretch up the slope of vast Vesuvius, 

lomb» of Raphael, the famoua painter, of Cardinal Conaolvi and 
of Italy's two Kings, Immanuel II. and Humbert I. Although it 
is a consecrated church, services are seldom held there. It is 
regarded more as a spot sacred to the country's great men, and 
to the achievements and architecture of the past 

•One of the striking incidents of country life in Italy, and 
in France as well, is the large number of peasant women one 
•eea everywhere, and every day, washing clothes in the •Ueama. 

164 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



CCIX. 

Whose vaprous peak I climb'd to and surveyed- 
From whence had belched forth on the plains be- 
neath 

Ashes and lava, that in ruins laid 
Two once f r cities,* brought their people death, 
Iho Idle now is that destroyi.ig breath 

That nineteen centuries past o'erwhelmed Pompeii 
1 here rose behind me but a filmy wreath 

As I looked over Naples and her bay 

And on to where the blue Mediterranean lay 



ccx. 

I wandered down those spectral streets, I stood 

In Pompen's temples open to the sky; 
Palaces once, now wrapp'd in solitude 

Save for the sound of tourists sauntering by 

Or vendors of her curios as they r 
Their trade among her ruined, naked .alls. 

I strolled among her fountains long since dry- 
Eloquent yet her Doric capitals ' 

Of the once kingly splendors of those roofless halls. 

* Pompeii and Remlanenm. 



i<5 



SHRINES OLX> AND NEW 

CCXI. 

Capri ! the traveller should surely see 

This tow'ring sentinel of Naples' bay; 
Nor overlook in his itineracy 

Its sapphire shore upon a sunny day ; 

Its bwtling crags of azure-tinted grey, 
From whence Imperial Tiberius threw 

His victims and that surging wave and spray; 
Against its grotto's mouth that changing hue, 
Entering within its caves from dark to lighter blue. 



What dreadful news is this the heralds cry 
On Naples' streets of that great human price 

The sea hath claimed in its stem majesty, 
The greatest kr^^wn. Upon the hidden ice 
Hath struck the giant ship.* What sacrifice 

Of precious life ! Hew many mourners weep ! 
For near two thousand souls sent in a trice 

In inky darkness to their final sleep 

To feed the monsters of the great unconquered deep. 

• The author was in Naples, waiting himself to sail for America, 
when the news came on April 1 6th, of the foundering of the 
White Star Liner "Titanic." the largest passenger ship afloat, 
about 300 miles off the coast of Newfoundland on her way to 
New York, with a loss of over 1,600 souls, among whom were 
several of his own prominent felIow.citizens. 

166 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ccxm. 

But this appalling stoty that we've heard 

Hath one bright spot that shines from out its 
gloom, 

No cowards there! when the fell stroke occurr'd 
The best and greatest bravely met their doom, 
Waiting behind so that there might be room 

For weaker ones and poor, they stayed to face 
The dark, cold precincts of th' unfathomed tomb; 

And thus their triumph over death doth place 

A wreath of glory on the Anglo-Saxon race. 



ccxiv. 

Naples! thine azure hills, thy wavelets bright. 

Shall form for this rude song a fitting close ; 
Where steep Sorrento gave her Tasso light ; 

Where Virgil's mound around a lustre throws. 

My muse's sun 'mid Western scenes arose, 
'Mid thy wisteria's blossom it shall set, 

With Ischia's shades to lull it to repose; 
And tho' I leave thee, perhaps forever, yet 
Thy varied charms are such the mind doth not forget. 



167 




if ^' 



^1^ * 



I i 



J i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ccxv. 

But we are fickle creatures, and we rani^ 

In search of the great unattainable ; 
Rarely content and always seeking change, 

And often barter great things for the small. 

And life glides on and our ambitions pal! ; 
Our energies decline, our once keen zest, 

And foiled, we see too late that after all 
Fruitless has been that restless wandering quest — 
That which we left behind has proved to be the best! 



And so my tale is told, my task is done; 

My Western home, again I yearn for thee; 
Thou standest well in the comparison 

With all these ancient lands beyond the sea. 

In nation's manhood, young and strong and free. 
And if I kindle in some soul a flame 

Of patriot zeal who scans my minstrelsy. 
My guerdon won, tho' in the years my name 
Be all unworthy of and all unknown to fame. 






Naples, April 19, 1911. 



168 



SHRINES OIJ) A.vrj js;evv 



h • 



,.' f 



CCX',' 

But wr are fickle creatures..,,,,, »,,,_. 

In searcl, of the great m.attair.abie ■ 
Rarely content and ahvays seeking c!",a,,«e 

Anrf yl''"^''" ^^^^' things for the .:r,a!l 
And hfe ghdes on and ot,r ambitions pall ■ 

Fr.,W^ ^°;^«J. «'e see too late that after all 

S I u^' ^" "^^^ ^*'tle« wandering qu^st- 

That wh,ch we left behind has proved to ke ZL ! 



And w i-j., (?> ii t,.!,; in. .,.^1 

My w„,c,.^f.p^,;,^.,;j .^^;; 

In nn. . " r '"'* '■''"''^ ^-^""-l th^ sea 

And if "k" \r^"^'^'^- >"™f ^"'l ^'™"K «d free 
And ,f I kindle m some soul a flame 

Mv 1''^"°* "^^^ "^''^ '"^^"^ "'y minstrelsy. 
My guerdon won, tho' in the years my name 
Be all unworthy of and all unknown to fame. 

ff'fUt, April /p, /p,j. 



iu«t , 



i 
'i 1 



i68 



;st! 




Poems and Sonnets 



TO A ROSE 

ff^hUh th, author plucM in Pop^s garden at 
Twickenham. 

Thou fair red rose, unfolding late to view 
Fam'd emblem of the did LancMtria^tr^a, • 
How the tradition of this S^E '^' 

/ mdlo'^r'/'^'"'"^ with Octo^JX. 

Ji'Sf^^nordoth^Ss^rr*'"^ 

An^ .^r^'^*?* P^^'^'y "here I tread 

Methmks thy perfume savors of the dme 

TTth t^""' ^'^ '""■'• 'hese surroundZ led 
Anf r ""^ "^''"* *« "fined and g" y 
And^anned the muse with sweet tn^:^endent 

r«wf*«ii*o«, Oct. r. If I,, 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



SUNSET AT HY^RES. 

Where Alpine foothilli meet the sapphire blue 

Of that Algerian-tempered, classic sea, 

Whose triremes once made Roman history; 
Where violets mirror deep their wond'rous hue 
In the cerulean arch above, and strew 

Over whole fields their perfumed purity; 

And wall and hedge form one long rosary 
Of bloom perennial ever fresh and new, 
High up one evening 'mid a crimson calm 

I stood, and viewed below a scene as fair, 
Of flower, and sea, and olive grove, and palm, 

As dreams are made of, while upon the air 
From Costebelle's grey tower her vesper psalm 

Breathed its soft benediction over Hy^res. 

Hyhru, Jan. i, igii. 



172 



AT POINT FARM 



AT POINT FARM. 

'*^'' 2 '*^'' *•"■"* *^«-<:h<»np„g crest 

So «Idom Men from wind or t^JS 'f ^ 
A stern reminder of the vague ^e^ "*' 

That man, the calm of life^unranji, sea? 
^An2Hf"ri"°'''^''P^°"d'y™". 

it.«..m;^™uS;:;rer;;f,:-^^^^^ 

^CrijL*'' °' '('"'••''y «°P«'« bright star 
And almost grasps, but in thfgraTpi^gS'ies 

" lost m measureless eternity ! 
173 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



WHERE THE RIVERS MEET. 

Away from west and southern hills 

Two rivers issue forth; 
The one meanders easterly, 

The other travels north; 
They, serpentining round about. 

In circling paths are led. 
Till shadow-lined Assiniboine 

Meets slowly-creeping Red. 



The place these tortuous waters meet. 

Far-distant years ago. 
Was trysting-place for red-faced men 

In search of buffalo. 
They, with the swift " coureurs-du-bois," 

Now long-forgotten, dead. 
Pitched tent upon the Assiniboine 

And paddled o'er the Red. 



174 



WHERE THE RISERS MEET 

To trade with breed and Indian 
For furs most prized of all 

In summer-time in birch canoe, 
In wmter-time in sled 

The trapper sought the Assiniboine 
At junction of the Red. 

And then Lord Selkirk's Pioneers 

Came m the traders' place 
And tilled their soil and sowed their seed 

A sturdy Scottish race • ' 

They mingled with the Indian tribes. 
And native women wed 

And peopled where Assiniboine 
iHows winding into Red. 

They suffered untold hardships, too, 
These settlers brave and bold- 
lSr:r;eT2,r'°'- their land. 

Gaunt famine often stalked the plains- 
They sometimes lacked for bread 

Where waters of Assiniboine ' 

ium northward into Red. 

'75 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

But many cycling years have flown 

Since Selkirk's men held sway; 
Their part well played on Life's great stage, 

They, too, have passed away; 
And now a city strong and grand 

Stands in their place and stead. 
Where verdant-banked Assiniboine 

Unites with sluggish Red. 



The iron horse's shriek is heard, 

The trolley's constant roar. 
Fair villas, tree-embosomed, stand 

Where wigwams stood before ; 
Majestic bridges span the streams. 

Wide streets with commerce fed ; 
Gardens bedeck the Assiniboine, 

And parks adorn the Red. 



From distant European shores 

Here myriads yearly come 
In search of land and liberty 

Denied to them at home ; 
Here people of all climes and tongues 

From mom till evening tread 
The streets where the Assiniboine 

Rolls silent into Red. 

i;6 



i 
a 



WHERE THE RIVERS MEET 

^"1,'' WhMer, who sublimely sang 
Of Boniface's bells, ^ 

Foretell the transformation scene 
ihis simple storytells? 

Could we into the future peer 

WhlT^u '"■"." "^'^ outspread, 
What changes! where Assiniboine 
Sweeps gently into Red. 



Hold! leafy sloped Assiniboine 
5>tay! muddy, straggling Red, 

Can man not draw a lesson from 
ihy shmy, crooked bed' 

Life's waters foul T Jfe's devious ways 

LSii^""^-' lightened be,"^ 

Winnipeg, May, /(,„. 



it 



m 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ANCASTER. 

Wooded summits, tow'ring high, 
Seem to kiss the summer sky. 
Eastward lies the lake at rest. 
Sleeps the city 'neath yon crest. 
Cloudlets soaring heavenbound 
Seem to fondly linger round 
Bright, hilly Ancaster! 



In the gentle vernal spring. 
When life pulsates everything; 
Bursts the dogwood's fleecy bloom, 
Driving off chill winter's gloom. 
Oak and maple branching wide 
Umbrageous dot the country?ide 
In sunny Ancaster. 

178 



SHRINKS OLD .-WI 



; !•• w 



ANCASTER. 

WiKxled summits, tow'nng high, 
Sef.ni TO K-iss the sumnifr :-.ky. 
F. •x:\tA ue« ij-..; lake ..; resi, 
:>^.iep-. r'.f- .rv 'nfuth v.m crest. 

S«-ni ;■■ r.,Ti.i'. '-r.^pr . ..in-i 
niighl. hiliy Ai.ca-tcr! 



In the ijeritie venial .<;i)ring, 
When life piiLsates everrthing; 
Run-ts the dugvv..,„rs fleecy' bloom, 
driving o.f chill winter's gloom. 
Oak aii'l maple hranching wide 
Umhragcous dot the countryside 
In simny Ancaster. 



1/8 



ANCASTER 

Men from many a clime and strand 
Wandenngo-er this pleasant laT 
Dnricmgm her fresh, pure air. 

Feastmg eyes on scenes so fair. 
Testify no other place 

Serener smiles on Nature's face 

Than charming Ancaster I 



Breezes sigh amid her trees. 
hoft^Eolian melodies I 

Gently winding, limpid streams, 

Wend their way thro' every val^. 
Intercepting hill and dale 
In shady Ancaster. 



Tell me, winds, as thro' her trees 
Whisper sweet your hannonies; 
J^e" me, distant silv'ry calls, 
Ut her murmuring waterfalls. 
Surely spirit things are ye 
"aced here by some deity 
In fairy Ancaster! 



i8i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

On the mirror of my mind, 
Absent, do I hourly find 
'Mid her verdant hills and leaves, 
Scenes which fancy fondly weaves; 
All that memory doth revere 
Seems to meet and centre here. 
In lovely Ancasterl 

Tht Rmitra, Pranct, 
CkruhHot, If II. 



tSa 



OFTEN 



OFTEN.* 

Often at break of day, before the din 
And stir of city life or song of bird 

Disturbs the air and wakens all within, 
Thy voice by me is heard. 

Often at noontide hour, when all is life. 
And commerce fUls the busy, rushing street, 

And footsteps tread in constant toil and strife 
I seem to hear thy feet. ' 

Often at even, when the crimson sun 

Sinks glorious to his rest o'er western plain. 

In fancy's weaving when the day is done 
I kiss thy cheek again. 

Often in silent night, when all is still 
And naught but contemplation doth beguile. 

Far from my love these eyes with tears do fill • 
I long to see thy smile. 

183 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Often in dreams, bereft of nature's power, 
This fever'd brain declines to take its rest ; 

I yearn to lay for one short, passing hour 
This head upon thy breast. 



Often when, heartsick, wandering here and there 
Aimless and lonely through this strange new 
land. 

New faces and new problems everywhere, 
Would I could take thy hand. 

And often, dear one, there comes over me, 
Burdened with sorrow and with care oppress'd, 

A deep, long yearning to return to thee 
And be again at rest. 

WiiuHptg, Pibnary, 1911. 



a* 



i 



THE DECLINE OF CHIVALRY 



THE DECLINE OF CHIVALRY. 

'Tis told in legend how 

In olden days the armored knight 

In furth'rance of his given plighted vow 

Rode to the rescue of his lady fair; 

How virtue, honor, love and loyalty 

Formed in men's hearts resolve to do the right 

Such was the age of chivalry. 

Of motive high, of courage rare, 

When noble child of tender years, 

Both called to act the part of menial page 

And taught great deeds to do and dare, 

An Esquire next we're told was proudly made; 

And last nfl.iming knightly age 

Knelt ,u.1 received the "accolade." 



Bravery the ideal then. 

Not wealth; combine and trust, alike unknown 

Ate not like canker to the heart of men. 

Religion's light burned strong: 

To-day 'tis dim ; we hear the groan 

Of millions clamoring for redress of wrong. 

185 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Burke vividly 

Over a cycle since, in lurid gloom, 

Pictured in words those sordid, evil times 

Which brought so dire a fate 

To beautiful Queen Antoinette, on whom 

For lack of chivalry 

Men dared in lust of blood to perpetrate 

The worst of revolution's crimes. 



O gifted Celt! We say 

With thee, deploring high ideals lost, 

Wealth gained and power secured at honor's cost. 

Beholding the degeneracy of to-day — 

The poor oppressed, the weak asunder drawn. 

Courts, Governments and Councils sold and 

bought. 
Heroic character a thing of naught — 
"The Calculator's age salutes the dawn; 
The age of chivalry is gone." 

IVmniptg, January, ifn. 



i86 



TO A VIOLET 



TO A VIOLET. 

Gathered on the grave of Keats at Rome. 

WWle others sought their pleasure on a round 

Of Palace, Arch and Temple of old Rome, 

And Pantheon and royal Caesar's tomb, 

I wandered toward Testaccio's hill, and found 

The grave of Keats, to me more sacred ground 

For here rests that sweet flower of song, than 

whom 
No sweeter ever faded in its bloom. 
I plucked a violet from this humble mound 
And, press'd between his poems, I shall keep 
Though thy leaf wither and thy perfume fade, 
Ihee—httle flower; thou wilt be to me 
In far^jflf western land beyond the deep 
Of Beauty's bard, who rests near Cestius' shade 
An Inspiration and a Memory I 

Romt, April 3, igig. 



Of 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ODE TO CHRISTMAS DAY. 



n 



Thou charaiing day of unalloyed content, 
Thou fantasy of childhood's happy hour. 
Creator of all joy and merriment, 
Distributor of Love's and Kindness' power; 
What is it marks thine advent among men 
In this and every other Christian clime 
With gladness and with gay festivity? 
Chiefly because thou point'st to us the time. 
And call'st to our remembrance yet again 
The wondrous theme of Christ's Nativity. 



And too, because at this especial time 
Thou mak'st the discord of the bygone year 
Give place to love and unison and rhyme, 
And all harsh thoughts and actions disappear. 
Thou causest all in contest warm to vie 
And eagerly in one accord engage 
And use their best endeavors to disperse 
Kindness about, and self-denial try; 
Others to please, our own base ends immerse. 
From childhood on to winter's hoary age. 

i88 




'Sm pax, 



SHRIN'FS OLl> A\i< N'EW 



MM 
k 

k 

! i. 
U 



ODE TO CHRISTM.s. • V 

Tliou charming day of unalloyed conterit, 
Thou fantasy of childhootl's hapi'y hour, 
Creator of al! joy and merriment, 
D'stributor of Love's and Kindiii;ss' p<3wer; 
\> .lat is it niar'KS tliiae advent among men 
T 1 this and every other Christian clime 
With irlndn*'!-'. Tpd with gay ieitivity? 
Chiefiv i*. «i. J- -h.i.i (»!!i''«t t.i ns the tiiue, 

\r(T' .»; ■ .:^H ;. 



And too, because al 'h^. . : iic 

Thou niak'st the distord ui the bygone year 
Give place to love and unison and rhyme, 
And all harsh tliuughts and actions disappear, 
Thou caiisest all in contest wrnn to vie 
And eagerly in one accord engage 
And use their best endeavors to disperse 
Kindness about, and self-denial try; 
Others to please, our own base ckIs immerse. 
From childhood on to winter's hoary age. 

i88 




"xS^stSJ^^:el^?^^tt^L::.r-'Ha„.„„„ 



(See page ,Sj-) 



ODE TO CHRISTMAS DAY 

Let strains of music then be heard to-day. 
I<et melody be wafted near and far 
Ut hght be kindled in the darkened way 
To lead m« onward like the Eastern Star 
To kmdly deeds and gentle words of love; 
We cannot hear the sweet seraphic voice 

^r s^ .h. r"" m'** *c' '°"« °"*P°"«d to them. 
a?t r ** ^"'f '"S Star in heaven above; 
But m good-will can equally rejoice 
W>th those who saw the Star of Bethlehem. 

^r BetWehOTl that sound of melody 
Which echoed o'er thy housetops long ago. 
Those angel voices in sweet hannony 

And that bnght vision bursting on the 4w 
?old of .'' rK-.i'''''"^ "^"^ *y snowcUd Wils ■ 
aweeter than song from out th' empyrean blue 
Brighter th^ sunlight which the .H'ZS,"'' 
God s gift to man m Song and Light unfurl'd. 

.9. 



IP' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Whose lines are cast in darker shades than ours, 
Whom chiU misfortune may have stricken sore, 
Who may have fallen by stem Fate's caprice 
From high est ite to low, from rich to poor? 
He who on such his Christmas bounty showers 
Keeps best the Birthday of the Prince of Peace. 

Wimipie, Chriitmat. I9'0. 






193 



RAINBOW^AND 



RAINBOWLAND. 
There is a land, so saith an Iceland tale 

ffw* Buekmgton. 



>93 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



ODE TO CANADA.* 

First land in all the Universe, 

None other may transcend! 
O Canada, thy prayers rehearse. 

Thy thankful praises blend; 
And in thy best last golden West 

Has each succeeding year, 
Filled by God's hand with all things grand, 

Been crowned with goodlier cheer. 



Each passing bounteous year thou'st seen 

On land, on sea, in air, 
Discoveries greater than have been. 

Advancement everywhere; 
On history's page, in any age 

No mightier strides veremade; 
No other state so soon grown g eat. 

In conune :, wealth and trade. 

• Written for the Winnipeg Bomrd of Educalioii. 



194 



ODE TO CANADA 

No war. nor plague, nor pestilence, 

No restless discontent, 
No base corrupting influence 

Have on thy shores been sent: 
But vast and wide. Great Britain's pride. 

Thou stand'st supreme to-day. 
Pulsing with life, devoid of strife 

Dissension or decay. ' 



Thankful t(Mlay thy people are, 

And should they not have cause? 
For King and Flag, for Hope's bririit star 

For just and equal laws ; 
For family ti« and bright, clear skies. 

For sun and rain and flower. 
For Word of Truth, for glorious Youth 

And charm of Manhood's power 



ffinniptg, BmpW, Day, 1911. 



195 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



MILAN CATHEDRAL. 

Midway between the terrace and the crest 
O* this rare marble pile, I saw there, hung, 
A figur^ which I noticed most among 

Tiie many — Christ asleep on Mary's breast. 

And there some pigeons had contrived a nest, 
Tho' poor and frail the hold by which it hung; 
And fed and guarded well their callow young. 

And warded off th' intrusions of the rest; 

And as I watched them there a passing thought 
Of grandeur, mingled with humility. 
Came flooding o'er this sordid heart of mine: 

How the great Author of all Love had brought 
Those gentle birds to nestle near the knee 
Of that Bless'd Mother, with her Child Divine. 

Uilan, Uareh 6, ifu. 



196 




' ■ ■ ■ ■ in a cfoicc: -iput 

SlerpR thf ^rent heart of Shclkv. shadow-d ..'< 
With (iark mng cypress . 



i.^w t'^KC 154-) 






SHMXrs Ol.r. ,\.VD NEW 



MILAN CATHEDRAL 



Midway between the terrace and ti.e crest 

•\.„i r;, ■ ■"' '^^'' "" Mary's breast 

Ami there -.«.e p,,eons had .ontrived a nest 

•^<i v»,„,i.<si .f'.^ ' ■^'■11 •'•"- callow y„ung. 
And ,is / iv!,f^.j „ '■ '" "^I 

Of s:rand-!,T r-„ii4,.f- ,-,,, . ' '"»;'" 

Of that Bless d. Mother, w,th her Child Divfne 



Milan, March 



. /9;j. 



196 




• In a clioi 

With H=,i;' "'""" """ "< Sh 
with dark ning cypress 



Sleeps the 'great henrf ^f "?rn *''"' 

With H,.D..?™' "'"" of bhelley, sliadowd o'c 



(See page 154.) 



ODE TO SPRING 



ODE 'ro SPRING. 

Hail I Season of soft winds and budding ilowen, 
Dispeller of fierce winter's frigid bounds ' 

Come w.th thy pleasant germinating showers 

H.rt?r^ *u ^''^^^ ""'' *•«= "•'^dow grounds: 
Hark I thro; the pmes, in cadence sweet, IhcT 

The music of thine advent, waited lone 
And on the air I catch the whispering 

Of tfie approaching summer. Birds in sone 
Over the plowman's head pipe far and nea^^ 
New merald tints on field ^d tree app^^ 

And herald all around thy birth, O Spriiig. 

See! in the orchard and the scented wood, 
S>ure tokens of thy coming everywhere, 

AnTjS °^r'' -hiteagainT^has 'stood. 
And whitened there thro' many a yester-yea^ 

Of ^hfl ' ^ ^'°'" °"* *"= blossomrg 
Y<«l 'mM r?"'"*' pink-tinted peach. ^ 
In il ' *''°**y =«^e« insect hum 

Gemal lifegiver, balmy odorous SpringI 

199 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

The village lad, weary of skate and sled 

Now stored away, at end of daily school 
Hies him with rod in hand to streanilet's bed. 

And whips the finny haunts of brook and pool, 
Just cleared from freshet's overflowing flood, 

And freed from icy covering of frost. 
And here stays till the nightfall, lingering. 

Not thinking of the hours that he has stood 
Trying to tempt again the beauties lost, 
Nor of the times his line in vain he's tossed, 

On this his first excursion of the Spring. 

Nor is the boy who haimts the limpid stream. 

Nor child at play amid the bloom so fair. 
Nor plowman following afield his team. 

The only lover of thy fragrance rare. 
Sweet vernal Season. In yon hilly mead 

Are lowing cattle winding up the trail. 
And browsing ewes content meandering, 

While sportive lambs alternate skip and feed. 
Their joyous bleatings echoing thro' the vale; 
The brute creation, too, on thee regale. 

And thankful greet thy dawn, O glorious Spring I 

Ancatttr, May, igzi. 



900 



TO MORNING 



TO MORNING 



1 

1 



Thou who of old didst gild the fretted skies, 
Upon Olympus, when goat-footed Pan 
Piped to the sylvan nymphs of mythic Greece, 
And from fair Syrinx formed his shepherd's reed I 
Thou metaphor by which the tongue of man 
Hath clothed from the foundations of the world 
And from the birth of language, similies 
Of all the bright and good and true in life I 
Thou period in which the mounting lark 
Doth pour from out the vault of England's skies, 
Unseen by man, its wondrous silver note 
Hid in the vortex of the glimmering dawn! 



Wiose long, white fingers cast their mantle bright. 
Of new-bom life throughout all time and space 
On the far islands of the Southern seas. 
Whose verdure lasts throughout the changeless year. 
Whose waters ne'er are frost-bound, and whose 

fruits 
Hang mellow and bespice the tropic winds. 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 
On the high mountains whose eternal snows 

"* fl!l!S"^'' **'' '''°"''* ^"^ ^^ *''«' ■ne'ting 
nooos 

To freshen and make green the vales beneath 

Or on the prairie vast, where distant honk 

Of goose and trumpet of awakening crane. 

Announce the morning flight to rtubble field. 

ni. 

Say smiling child, why bards of bygone days 
Dwell most on that forerunner of dark night, 
1 hy dusky sister Eve, with shadows chill 
And dymg sunset. I would fain attune 
My lyre to sing of brighter scenes and things. 
And how the dark and gloom do flee away 

?f ^Y/*'*^ *'''^''" P"""" '"°"»'s with their pall 
Glad Mom ! to thee my song I dedicate ; 
Precursor of the bright and glorious day 
Dispeller of the vicious things of night ' 
Awakener of the worid and of all life ' 
On mount, o'er vale, and in th' abysmal deep. 

IV. 

When Lucifer hath vanished, and the moon 
P^raued by Phoebus from his orient couch' 
u/^ y«' * "<:Wy light from western sky 
When meads are grey, o'ersprinkled all around 

202 



TO MORNING 

With summer's dew or fall's first ashen hoar, 
And mist obscures the valleys, tho' beyond 
'Tis pierced by crowning hilltop, or mayhap 
By some dead warrior of primeval wood 
The logger's axe hath spared to stand and rot. 
Entranced we see from out the crimson East ' 
The first rays flash of thy all-welcome light, 
Begemming every leaf and blade and flower. 



Now Eos, mother of the Stars of Heaven, 

And of the winds and of Eosphorus, 

Comes forth from out her eastern palace gates 

In chariot of yellow, piloting 

*?*■■ f****** °^ snowy white, and doth diffuse 

The light, and grasp and slay the fleeing Dark 

Bewitching goddess! who with equal flame 

Inspired the loves of deities and men, 

Who with her brother Helius hath been steer'd 

Across Latona's dismal northern skies 

jta the celestial artist's Golden Cup* 

To guide the Sun-god back o'er heaven's dome. 

lO^dS.' JJ'IS'h^"""., '"'/'':"' '^' *"<"• " E«^ the Titan 
SM Md goddtM with their chariot, ud horKs w«e Jl 

ao3 



1 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

That favorit chS;/^tL*.'"'^f ■"'■"• 
Seelf^rt, >.■ '■"'*'^" Of the Summer's dark 
beeketh h,s wonted forest hiding-place 
And Philomela shuns the haunt! of m«. 



VH. 



NEW 



of the night 
revealing Mom. 
leave 

sting-time, 
e, 

lidnight stiM, 
for his prey, 
'Ugh the woods, 
fie dense; 
>or-wiIl, 
er's dark, 
ce, 
men. 



epose, 

ir is fill'd 
i 

ong 

andise 

ming shriek, 

>r, 

I of night 




SHRrNMs oi o .,.VD >,E^ 



0^"-p„hle„ hvthe m<K^nL '^''' ^°^ ^is pre. 
;^"'' the sofs„ote,J ^en/l V-^""^'" ''*""«.• 



Vft. 



I i 



N 

Who quicj. r.cr^ ■ ^' ""■ away 
Jfn nothing, hfce M,. ''"'med to end 

204 



NEW 



f the ni^t 
"■a'i'ig Morn 

i"g-time. 

knight still, 
or his prey, 
fh the Wood's, 
' 'lense; 
-will, 

s dark, 



>se, 
i fill'd 



ise 

'S shriek, 

night, 




TO MORNING 
And now^uie .lumbering .w.i„. th.^ ,,,„,„^ 
B««ini himWlf and seeks his daily toil. 

VIII. 

The air is lade„ with the gladdened voice 
Of ri^ ""' u^ ^"'^'- ""*• ^''^ 'he scent 
Zd^hV''"'''^"'^'^^ *'"■ the dew. 

Are Sheep and sw.ne and little calves, all loath 

mth chased the damp and chill of night awav 
And frogs are helple*,, still beneath the wS 
W th «>dd ^,„g ^^ j^_.^^ 
Fate on the.r wandering, over field a^wood. 

IX. 

What ,»rt of earth's revolving day than thee 

n m'r "Ti!' ^"''''' Do'th not Spring 
The morn mg of the year mot* softly breathe 
Her damtiest odors with thy openiL r^ ? 

And in ST„h"^ '''^*' T^"^ 'hey be bon^? 
Thv ^tt M ^ summer's halcyon hours 
Thy smoky blue and softened grey soothe te*. 

ao7 



i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

What diamonds in a crown more brilliant shine 
Than when the rays of winter's rising sim 
Shoot forth their darts across the snowbound hills 
And pale the glory of the waning stars ? 



M 



X. 

And in the crowded cities thou art, too, 

A cheering guest, whether in mansion rare 

Or humble workman's home, where are laid low 

With sickness those to whom the cloak of night 

Brings no repose ; who long to see the sun. 

Or those whom horrid dreams have so'ely racked 

To whom once more thou bringest p.. :. and cahn. 

The lone night-watchman on his weary beat 

Awaits thy coming that he may have rest. 

And where Vice hideous stalks 'neath friendly dark, 

And revelry and riot rule o'er all. 

How joy'd doth Virtue greet the day again? 






I! 



Where on the sacred page of Holy Writ 

Are words indited loftier than those 

By which the great Creator of the Spheres 

Called thee to being? Aught more rich with hope 

To fallen man, of promise more full-fraught. 

Of truth more sure, of prophecy more clear, 

aoB 



TO MORNING 

Than that glad sentence which th' Omnipotent 
The heavens and earth create gave utterance to, 
When, chaos brooding o'er the new-form'd deep, 
He saw that it was good, that thou shouldst be, 
And drove the Stygian gloom of night away 
In that sublime decree, " Let there be Light." 



xn. 

O glorious mom of life! when Youth's desires 

And hopes and struggles had not undergone 

The disappointments of reality ! 

O morning of the year, when leaf and flower 

Were still untouched by summer's withering heat. 

Or blasted by the frosts of autumn's night. 

O mom of nations, ere their rulers' hearts 

Had felt the blight of a decadent age, 

And they, like Athens, once were pure and free I 

The dawn hath broken into garish day. 

And, day far-spent, night's shadows round me fall 

And naught remains of thee but memory's sigh. 



xm. 

Salute, ye sons of men, the new-bom rays 
Of moming, breaking as they do the chain 
Of darkness which hath cast her ebon folds 
O'er dreamy Nature ! Hearken to the song 

ao9 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Of birds with gladness, they that do prevent 
The arrows of the dawn with melody 
And pour their canticles athwart the sun. 

nf^ia^ ""T *''** "^fh**^' 'Appier birth 

Ske *i" 1"^'' i"*"'"'^ <="'"• -hoL «diant bean, 

I«o fh h'I*" **'''"■ ■' P*"««tin? deep 
Into the dark recesses of the world 

And banishing the night of Ignorance! 



XIV 

And thou poor jaded toiler on Kfe's road' 

Wiat if the piercing briers of To-dav 

Do lacerate thy tired arms and feet 

And, hindered by the rocks of Care and Fear 

Thou comest to the River of To-night 

Only to shudder at its deep and glo^m. 

Be of good courage I o'er the Bridge of Sleep 

To take thy hand and guide thy steps anew ' 
Bnght vsaged Mom! and in that JrdenT^V 
The rose embower'd. To-morrow thou shalt r^st 
Refreshed w.th all the odorous bloom of Ho^ 

Anctuler, October, tgu. 



210 



>i: 



'.^'r 



VENICE 



VENICE. 

Where Brenta cast up her alluvial sanSs 
xn the dim centuries of long ago 
She rose a child of pride and pomp and show 
Outnvallmg all her other neightoring lands 
And wealth and commerce fell into her h^ds 
From subject cities. And to-day altho' 

In Art Wh r"*'''' ''"r"' ""'^^ '^' ^^"keth low, 
in Art s nch treasury she still commands ; 

Bm m.d her golden domes, her carved facades. 

I ^"ght m vam for verdant, spreading shades. 

I listened, but upon mine ear there rang 

Of horses hoofs no distant echoing clang 

Nor sound of rumbling wheels, she hath not these 

Because her paths are o'er th' untrodden seas. 

yenice, March i6, igu. 



ail 



I 



t ^1 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



I' ( 



f 



ADVERSITY. 
Composed at Sea. 

GriJ^t ^"' '"^ "^"^^^ *»«* J°^ °f old 

By i«ve^^,T^ """ eschewing evil, 
m^MTtJZ"" l '""^'"^ °^ 'he devil. 
H.S sheep are slain by angry fire of God ■ 
T^ ^ »^°'-1 his men and cameH^uri-^ 

And then to th.s extreme hun,iIiatK>n ^ ^• 

Patiently bearing fire an^ri^ Z^ZorT^'' 
Blesses the name of Ws afflict.ng lITd 

And, as affliction's devastating breath 

In man, m nature, and in fable, we 
May see the blessings of Adversity. 

313 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



t i 



ii :| 



ADVERSITY 

C(imfu,s,;i at Sea 

In Holy Writ -fis taught that J„h of old 

t.ratesto,p,en,w,thnchesn,;nifoM, ' 
Perfect and upnght an<i eschewing ev, 

By heaven . ,,e,.ree is ,e,np,ed of the d'eWl 
H,,...,i. .„n^ncafhtheS.V*anr..f 

t-haldr,!., »,» , , ,,,. ,„,,, , 
Andthe... th,sex..e„.,...„^':!,f■«''^- 
B ' >" .h,s sa.m, m,.! all this ,i„, correction 

Blesses the name of his afflicting r.or<r 

And, as affliction's devastating i,reath 

Kefined Job shfe and added to h,sfa.th 
'" man. in nature, and in fable we 
A'uy see the blessings of Adver 




n\ 



i) '; 



K 



ADVERSITY 



Look around, reader, and you'll find 'tis true; 

Whatever theme or prospect you pursue. 

If 'tis the forest or the ocean tide. 

If 'tis the stream where leaves of autumn glide 

The boy who plods with l-reless energy. 

Or chastened martyr of mythology ; 

If the proud ship which rides upon the storms. 

If man's frail soul surrounded with alarms; 

This lesson's taught, the way that's strewn with 

thorns 
The better and the higher life adorns. 

The stately oak sprang not at once to sight. 
To majesty and beauty in the light. 
But many a storm-wind rudely sweeping o'er. 
Bent its young branches in the days of yore. ' 
Stem was it press'd by many an autumn wind. 
By Iightnmg's flash, by winter's frost unkind; 
But all these foes but multiplied its strength, 
And gave new vigor to its breath and length- 
And thus we see it standing proud to-day, 
Impervious to wind and rain's decay. 
The monarch of the forest and the grove, 
Pride of our land, and object of our love. 
Strong in the sunlight of God's glorious earth 
Made stronger by Adversity from birth 



"S 



I 






I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

The surging tide which all around us we 

In wonder gaze on o'er the moonlit sea, 

Did not attain its fulness at a bound, 

But slowly crept along the sloping g^und 

The wave which would submerge th' opposing shore 

Must first recede so it may add the more 

To that vast effort hurl'd against the strand. 

By which old Ocean claims the golden sand 

The river flowing peaceful thro' the vale 

Can also tell Adversity's stem tale, 

Of hill and mountain obstacles o'ercome 

By age of toil and struggle wearisome. 

The law of nature and the law of life 

Make all things smoother after years of strife. 

The man who stands pre-eminent to-day, 

Is not the boy who spent his youth in play. 

Petted and pampered in his father's home 

Allowed in wealth and indolence to roam ; 

But he whom hardship made to slave and toil 

Who early rose and struggling till'd the soil ' 

Devoid of luxury, deprived of cash, 

Press'd on beneath misfortune's cruel lash. 

Till, manhood reach'd, there dawned on him the 

truth, 
How good had been his struggling, toiling youth, 

3l6 



ADVERSITY 

How easy 'twas to leave behind the man 
Who, child of luxury, his life began. 
The youthful toiler, victor in the end, 
Has found Adversity his truest friend. 



See the starved vultures round the vitals flock, 
Of the chain'd Titan on Caucasus' rock ; 
Death doubly welcome is to him denied 
That he may be through age of torture tried. 
Three thousand years of bitterest anguish roll 
While awful pangs consume his stricken soul ; 
Blistered each day with sun s tormenting rays, 
And frosts of night worse than the fire of days, 
At length by Hercules vouchsafed release. 
How pure his joy, how exquisite his peace I 
Who fainted not at Hell's relentless throes. 
Who faltered not against o'erwhelming woes. 
Thy joy, Prometheus, and thy victory 
Were sweetened most by thine Adversity! 



Our gallant ship will yonder by and by 

Safe and serene from storm at anchor lie, 

Tho' now through mountain seas she's heav'd and 

toss'd, 
StiU pressing onward toward the friendly coast. 

317 



MKIOCOrY nSOUITION TiSt CHA>T 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2| 




J /IPPLIED ItVHGE Ini 

K 1653 Eait Main Slrtat 

'S Rochester. Naa Tork 14609 USA 

ae (716) 482 - 0300 - Phono 

gS (716) 2U- 59S9 - Fai 



Lis 



'V •' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Sternly she battles 'gainst the billow's crest 
are she reposes on the harbour's breast 
And so on life's disturb'd and troubled sea 
Storm-bound and toss'd, we meet Adversity; 
But the firm soul who bravely struggles on, 
bees dark and danger met and duty done, 
Who patient bears calamity and grief, 
Who founders not upon temptation's reef 
Time s voyage o'er, with a serene delight 
Rests on the bosom of the Infinite! 

S. S. "Lake Ckomplain," 
June iS, 1911. 



218 



THE CATARACT OF LODORE 



THE CATARACT OF LODORF,. 



A Satire. 



'Tis told that once from distant lands there came 
To Windermere a visitor, whose name 
I need not tell, but so the story ran, 
He was a well-to-do Canadian 
Who, having means and leisure, wish'd to see 
Whatever things of interest there might be 
Beyond the seas, and in those far-oflE climes 
He'd heard and read of oft in tales and rhymes. 
And, 'mong the rest, our traveller had been told 
To visit Wordsworth's land — wild, rugged, bold,- 
Its mountain peaks, its lovely tarns and rills. 
Its mirror'd lakelets, gorges, fells and ghylls. 
And so we're not surprised to find him here. 
Gazing on all these charms round Windermere. 



In youth our hero'd leam'd to improve his mind 
In his spare moments with the arts refin'd. 
And spite of many cares by business press'd, 
Had chosen books and authors of the best ; 



319 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Not only in the field of prose was he 

A stroller, but in that of poetry. 

And who, a student of the noble muse. 

Could for one moment Southey's haunts refuse 

To visit gladly or his poems ead 

And of the sights therein de»:ribed take heed? 

There's little cause for wonder then that he, 

Fill'd with the sight-seer's curiosity. 

Scanning the guidebooks of the district o'er, 

Shoi^d ask the way to the far-famed Lodore. 



Oft had our traveller in rapture stood 
Above Niagara's stupendous flood. 
Watched Yellowstone's majestic torrent leap 
Down its abysmal heights to cavern deep; 
In California's clime admiring he 
Had heard the thunders of Yosemite; 
Once on Superior's northern shores he saw 
The cataract of Kaministiquia; 
Entranced he'd gazed on iridescent ray 
Of shining sun o'er Montmorenci's spray. 
Seen all these glorious Western visions, free, 
Uncheck'd by tolls, uncurs'd by any fee. 
So, when at Lodore, block'd by toll-gate stand. 
High were his hopes of sight sublimely grand. 

The entrance paid, th' unsightly toll-gate pass'd, 
To right, to left, in front, his eyes he cast — 

aao 



SHRINES OLD A\i' MiW 

Not only m the fiel^i vf pn m- w.,, i,r 
A stroller, but in that of pr^iry 
And who, a .student uf the noble mi^.- 
Onild for one moment Southev'- t-,-, nr^ ,-f.:sf 
To V isit gladly or his poems read 
And of the sights therein descrilwd tak-- h. e 
There's little rause lor wonder tlien that he, 
Fill'd with the sight-seer's curiosity, 
.■^ -anring the guidelxioks of the district o'er, 
hould ask the way to the fai-famed Lodore. 



Oft had our traveller in rapture stood 
Ahovr \i-,t;ar,i ■< ituiwnlMus ri ,.>,), 
\Vatch.-,'i \ dlowM.iue < itt:|oIk. torrent leap 
Down if< abysmal hei^his '.,enM-rr: ■!»«;. 
In CjIii imia's dime admir.nt i-- 
T!ad heard the 'hunders .n Yos,-i,me. 
Once on Supe. vjr'^ nortliciv, bJiort.- he saw 
The catarac! of Kaministiquia, 
Entranced he'd ga^ed on iridescent ray 
Of shining sun o'er Montmorenci's spray, 
Seen all these glorious Western visions, free, 
Uncheck'd by tolls, uncurs'd by any fee. 
So, when at Lodore, block'd by toll-gate st;uid, 
High were his hopes of sight sublimely grand. 

The entrance paid, th' unsightly toll-gate pass'd. 
To right, to left, in front, his eyes he cast — 

220 



THE CATARACT OF LODORE 

No sight nor sound of water falling still 
The searcher thought he'd climb a rocky hill 
Perchance the falls were on the other side, ' 
Where to the eastward Derwenfs slopes divide. 
This height attained, he sat him down to rest. 
And thmk which pathway now would be the best 
While pond'nng thus, he saw a boy appear 

Enough to hail, he to him eager calls : 

Pray tell me, lad. the way to Lodore Falls!" 
How think you, reader, felt our wanderer 
At this reply : " You're sitting on them, Sir I" 

Wmiermtrt, Aug. i, 1911. 



333 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



41 



1. 



LIVE CLIMBING. 

r. a promising youth on attaining his majority. 

Young man! you open on this day the page 
Of he wh.ch calls you up to manhoodfaS 
A«d leave wth pleasant .nemorie. on the mind 

Yo^rTfK t"'' 1°^' °^ '='''''«'°«» "^l behind; 
Your Fatther-s hopes, your Mother's praye'rs and 

Which watched and followed you through bygone 

oJi'thinr^' '^•'T '" y°" '^'y ^°"d'v see 
On this the day of your majority 

^.gns that give promise, like a well-tilled Hrfd 
Of fruits that only noble lives can yield • 
Virtue and honor, learning, rectitude. ' 

A Ih^v !f '!?""''^' "P'''^""« things pursued. 
A kindly heart, a nature all refined, 
A gentle manner and a cultured mind. 

See that these gifts so excellent, so rare 
Are nurtured, cultivated, reared with care, 

334 



LIVE CLIMBING 

Be diligent in ai: things, bear ir mind 
The best, if careless, soi- etimes fall behind ; 
And he with lesser gifts out steadier pace 
Oft overtakes the brilliant in life's race. 
Strive faithfully no daily task to shirk, 
For the night cometh when no man can work. 
Avoid the pitfalls in life's pathway found. 
Which lie before you scattered all around ; 
The Spendthrift's folly and the Miser's greed. 
The Slanderer's tongue, the base, ignoble deed, 
The Atheist, who reason defies. 
And God and future state alike denies. 



'Neath one of Alpine peaks remote and vast 

The traveler stops ere he the spot hath passed. 

To gaze upon an unpretentious stone, 

Standing as sentry in the pass alone • 

He pauses thus, in pensive mood to read 

The record there of an heroic deed. 

How Youth, who, more ambitious thiin the rest 

To reach the highest point of mountain's crest. 

Venturing too far on treacherous ice and snow, 

Met death in fathomless abyss below ; 

But "'hat impressed the traveller the most. 

Was .lot the epiiaph of the Youth lost. 

Or dissertation on his virtues rare. 

But the words " He Died Climbing " graven there. 

235 






k 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

'Twas glorious thus in mounting up to die, 

Striving to reach the peak which pierced the sky. 

And while time lasts th' engraving on that spar 

Will charm the traveller from lands afar ; 

But if 'twas grand and noble to die so, 

O ifTcuth, take this thought to thyself, and know 

That living, more than dying, you should climb. 

And strive in all things for the heights sublime; 

Make life one grand continuous ascent. 

Let " He Lived Climbing " mark your monument; 

And then, tho' highest place be not attained. 

No mean nor poor position you'll have gained. 

But looking back at set of evening sun. 

Can contemplate a life of great things dune. ' 

Winnittg, April j, igii. 



226 



'M 



1 




Mi 



% 



Hi 



SHRINKS OI.O AV!> F\V 

'Twas glori.;(is rlius in nioumi!!i; .). ,,, <1m^ 

Striving to rencli the [)eak whrc!. i ...^ i f|i Jcy. 

And whilp time lasts th' enirravni^ ..n tt.j.; s,w 

Will charm tht traveller from l.uv<|. .<;.,-, 

Bui if 'twa.? grand and noble to ihc sf,, 

O Youth, take this thought to thyselt, ;,..,i ti. -.v 

That living, more than dying, you should climh, 

And strive in all things for the heights sublime, 

Make life one grand continuous ascent, 

Let " lie Lived Climbing " mark your monument; 

And then, tho highest place be not attai-^ed, 

No mean nor poor ixjsition you'll have gained, 

But IcK'kirit' ;>cick .11 .f. ;' evening ^un. 

Can .-ortwriji.-.r- , i.ii. f v;.t.- .j, .,g^ rjore. ' 



Ui 



226 









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.5| 



FLORENCE 



FLORENCE. 

City of Flowers! where the Amo winds 
Bejewel'd 'mong the Apennines, thou art 
Of all fair cities dearest to the heart 

Of him who 'mid the world's confusion minds 

Life's higher things. In thee the seeker finds 
The deeds of masters of an early age, 
And those whose genius lit a later page. 

What never-ending streams of many kinds 
Of knowledge fill the soul with ecstasy. 

And make poor human hearts diviner grow 
In that old capital of Tuscany I 

Surely the thoughts of after-Ufe shall glow 
Brighter with happy memories of thee. 

The hcnne of Dante and of Angelo I 






I r 



Phrtnc*, March 26, 1912. 



239 



I 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



THE CANADIAN THERMOPYL^ 
(1660.) 

plumed and paint^ wa^rr°or, we« ^".l^ '^T*'" '"'°<'««' 
and OueliM- rmJj .u" f^. ?' Montreal, Three Riven 

others, youthful like HimMlf-all nf M^^f "*•, *'"■ .»«««" 
•ave their country, thoLXa^„,°li,"5'"^"!l-'«»'v«l to 
made their wills, cinfeS rM?iv?rf Th,"* '" ""* ""■ They 
a solemn farewell to S.^' /^ like m.?*"^"'.' *"<" '»•'« 
to death. And so thev were N„t' „ "*" *^"« »" "arch 
took their sund at UieL^n, «,„?,' "•«<'n>«l. alive. They 
Ottawa. Soon the UlS^e host atS^'lJ^k"??"''?' o" »S 

s;"e^#;fsrr?u5is™3„-S§'^^^^^^^^ 

who, though worn hv hTTnL? fi.-^'" ^ '" •"»»« defenders. 

and'prayef a"„rwa?cheTfn't?;;i? "JoTr,",' ^'f^' '""^"^ 
arnved; and for three dav, wL ."o*""" 'emforcemenU 

«vage, beleaguered the crumbHnrreSl W'"' '*':°?'»» 
death of the last Frenchman wis fhirf2?L*°l °"'>' *'«'' the 
But the colony was Mved Thl - dear-bought victory woa 
Thermopyte of Canada "-E«rfi"»°' 'M,?^"* Sault was Se 
History 'SfcS„adsJ»p°''g;^*'"« f™" Withrow and Adams' 

The Indian hordes were closing round • 
Dai-k clouds of gloom hung o'er the land, 

Seointy could scarce be found 
For priest or mission band: 

330 



i 



THE CANADIAN THERMOPYL^ 

In forest paths, on river streams, 

At night weird sounds disturbed men's dreams; 

The Iroquois appeared. 
And scalped and slaughtered one and all 
On well-tilled field, at convent wall ; 
Their presence fell like awful pall ; 

Even the bravest feared. 



And now they circle Ville Marie, 
Fair embryo city of New France, 

And men ; ear-stricken, hear and see 
The war-whoop and the dance. 

And on Quebec's grey mantled walls, 

At set of sun there also falls 

The hideous war-chief's yell. 

Belts filled with scalps— this ghastly sight 

Oft met the children in their flight. 

To escape the savage ere the night 
To hide the slaughter fell. 



" Who shall our loved ones help and save? 

Who can oir homes and hearths defend? 
Who is there bold enough and brave 

To ward off such an end?" 
As nearer crept the red man dread. 
This was the prayer the people said. 
With cry and piteous groan. 

231 



I.ii 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

" Twelve hundred warriors on their way, 
Painted and plumed in war's array, 
To scalp, to torture and to slay. 
And we are left alone I" 

While brave men feared and cowered low; 

While those entrusted to command. 
Dreading the deadly Indian blow. 

In terror left the land. 
Braver than aU stood forth to view. 
Gallant DaMac des Ormeaux, 

Of France's noble blood. 
" Tho' we be numbered with the dead 
Who will go up with me," he said, 
" And face the tomahawk and lead, 

And stem the savage flood? 

"Who will go up?" This was his call. 

" Our homes to save, our lives to give; 
Tho' every one of us shall fall, 

We'll die that ours shall live." 
And sixteen youths as brave as he. 
The flower and pride of Ville Marie, 

Hearkened to Daulac's voice 
And bidding dear ones sad adieu, 
They with a friendly Huron few 
Set forth for that which eacii one knew 
Lei* death their only choice. 

233 



THE CANADIAN THERMOPYLAE 

Up broad St. Lawrence's wooded shores, 
Across Two Mountains' widening lake, 

Where Ottawa's swift current roars 
At Long Sault halt they malce. 

Behind tree trunks tossed up before 

By Indians of a former war. 

Concealed from view they stand. 

Resolved that none shall pass them by, 

Prepared to hold their ground or die. 

The Indian warriors to defy. 

And all their murderous band. 

They came, the mighty Indian foe. 

And fought and stormed till Daulac saw 

Piled up around, above, below, 
Dead heaps of Iroquois. 

But one by one these brave youths fell. 

Till only five remained to tell 
The tale of carnage red. 

Then Indians, climbing o'er their slain. 

At length the rude enclosurj gain 

With maddening fury in their train. 
And torture in their tread. 

Daulac was slain and his brave men ; 

But peace for Ville Marie was won. 
And old Quebec saw rest again. 

And calm at set of sun. 

" 233 



If 

m 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

The savage tribes a lesson learned; 
Courage and bravery had turned 

Their hatred to respect. 
Hundreds had fallen to a few; 
Back to their forest homes they drew, 
No wish the conflict to renew, 

Their warlike ardor checked. 

While poets sing of Abraham's Plain; 

Of Brock who met a hero's doom; 
While history tells of Lundy's Lane, 

And lauds the patriot's tomb. 
You chose the deathless martyr's part, 
And nurtured deep in country's heart, 

Daulac of noble name, 
Who hunger, death and torture braved 
For homes and wives and children saved. 
Your name shines ever bright, engraved 
High on the scroll of fame. 

Winniptg, July, 1910. 



\i 



334 



TWO NAMES AT ETON 



TWO NAMES AT ETON. 

In scanning o'er the list of names, 
Carved on old Eton's walls, 

There two who everlasting fame's 
Proud honor roll recalls. 

I saw great Pitt engraven there 
By embryo statesman's hand, 

Small and ill-cut the letters were. 
And poor, and rudely planned. 

Then Shelley's name high up was cut, 
In letters broad and large, 

Above the rest his own he'd put. 
Upon the oaken marge. 

And thus I pondered as I read, 
Did these illustrious men, 

As o'er the oak their blades they led. 
Foresee their future then? 

Did Pitt, the boy at Eton school, 
As moved his keen-edged knife. 

Feel that a nation he'd control 
'Mid continental strife? 

235 



M 






SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

Or with prophetic vision see, 
Standing with blade in hand, 

His name cut deep in destiny 
An Empire to command ? 

Did Shelley, tracing broad and deep 

His yet unspoken name. 
Know that he'd climb by sudden leap 

To poet's deathless fame? 

Or that, inscribed on Britain's scroll. 
His name should honor'd be. 

Ere wave engulf d his warbling soul 
On far Italian sea? 

O British lad ! in life's career 

You may not be a Pitt 
Or Shelley, but your character! 

How are you forming it ? 

You're carving with each act of youth 

For honor or disgrace ; 
Engrave it deep in right and truth 

That time may not efface. 

Bton College, Bucks, 

October J, /p;/. 



236 



ON THE DEATH -^F LABOUCHERE. 



ON THE DEATH OF LABOUCHERE. 

Henry Labouchere, Bom 1831. Died at Florence, 
January i6th, i^ii. 

One of the gifts of heaven— a green old age 
Was granted thee, and now, a Florentine, 
Thou hast drunk there the last of life's sweet wine, 

t\c from that land where thro' thy flouting page 

Thou hadst encountered venom, scorn and rage. 
Far from tho';e scenes where 'neath thy firm con- 
trol 
" Truth" was the mirror of thy jeering soul. 

The mouthpiece of thy mocking persiflage. 

O English journalist and tribune great! 
Critic, Stage Manager and Diplomat I 
In birth tho' not in life aristocrat. 
A cleaner Britain we may owe to thee, 

Altho' in thy last years expatriate 

Thou mad'st thy home 'neath skies of Italy. 

Hyhrts, Frmct, January x, igi2. 



•At 



i 



237 



M 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



NAPOLEON'S TOMB. 

In ihadow'd Dome of a Parisian pile, 
The spandrei'd Invalides, I saw beneath 
A Tomb encircled by a laurel wreath 
Worked in mosaic. From Helena's isle 
Had come the dust of him who for a while 
Had ruled the nations, whose com ling breath 
Had sent forth pillage, devastatiot. .ath. 
But he had died a poor, forlorn exile : 
O Peerless CorsicanI Thy rise, thy fa , 
Thy genius ruling for a space the world, 
"Thine end — a prisoner on a foreign strand. 
All point a moral to the great, the small : 

Who climbs too ''•gh to lowest depth is hurl'd. 
Unchecked Ambition rests on shifting sand. 

Paris, Dtc. I, 1911. 



338 



I 













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I.inrt ( wrcatli 






it.t' p-i^e .•(•♦.» 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



r 



m 






NAPOLEON'S TOMB. 

In shadow'd Dome of a Parisian pile, 
The spandrel'ii Iiivalidcs, I saw beneath 
A Tomb e'Jcirr'rd by a laurel wreath 
Worked in mosaic. From Helena's isle 
Had come the dust of him who for a while 

Ha<i luleu ine natioiiv. ,vhose c:)iiiiiiandin(; breath 
iia! M-iit t Ttli p''la(Te. 'kn.iM.ii. >;', 'itath 
But he had dieii a p<xir. iorlnni exii»: 
O PeetiF'w C)rsicanl Thy rise, thy tall, 
Tli\ K^nius ruling toi ,i <ri.i •■ -'v w " ' 
Thine eml— a prisorifi i.. < niiji, < i.-iud. 
All point a tnoral to the great, the small : 

Who climbs too high to lowest depth is hurl'd, 
UuLheckei! .\mbition rests on shifting sand. 



Paris, Dec 



238 




" I saw beneath 

A tomb encircled by a laurel wreath, 
Worked in mosaic " 



(See page 238.) 



f? I 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

AVTien worldy pleasure satiates, and palls 
The noise and turmoil of the outer life, 
The din of commerce, and the sound of strife 
Thy solemn grandeur draws me to thy walls, 
Thy wond'rous history inspiring calls. 
Here I may contemplative learn to trace 
The by-gone splendor of our glorious race- 
As gently o'er each marble bust there falls ' 
Thme ancient windows' soft illumininf ^ 
Whose time is o'er, but all that fame can give 
Is theirs— tho' dead thou makest them to live 
Ihe consecration of *hy cloister brings 
A sweeter rest to 1 jes, bards, and kings 
Time's conqueror 1 and fame's restorative! 

Loudon, Eng., Stpi. m, 1911. 



i 



241 



(1^ 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



1 

,1: 

i;; 


1 



THE WATER LILY. 

I saw a water lily in her waxen dress 
Of virgin white unsullied loveliness, 
Serenely floating near a river bank. 
Beneath were sedge and ooze decay'd and dank, 
And tangled niass of rush and root and weed. 
Where slimy reptiles live and creep and feed. 
Alas! I thought, in what ill-fitting place 
Doth the fair lily waste such queenly grace. 
As, circled by her leaves of green and brown 
She threw the mirror'd shadow of her many-petal'd 
crown. 

But thus the gentle spirit, on life's marge serene 
Mayhap unknown, and oft, perchance, unseen, 
Long fettered by base hindrances like these 
Blooms out above the world's impurities. 
From weeds of self, from tangles of desire, 
From brackish waers and the loathsome mire, 
Where nature rooted it, and once 'tis freed 
From mire and tangle and the reptile greed 
Around and 'neath, where'er its graces shine 
It casts the perfect shadow of an influence divine. 



Washago, Aug. iS, 19U. 



243 



SOCIAL AMBITION 



i ■**- 



SOCIAL AMBITION. 

Why, O luring candle bright, 
Strive we for thy false delight, 
Straining heart and brain and soul 
To attain thy glittering goal ? 

In a night, or in a day, 
All thy charm will pass away. 
Like a leaf upon the stream. 
Like some poet's fleeting dream. 

Let us aim at something higher. 
To some nobler thought aspire'; 
Something real that will last, 
When thou, transient joy, art past. 

All around our visions greet 
Lives beclouded, wearied feet 
Waiting for the mists to clear. 
Longing for the word to cheer. 

Let us soothe some stricken heart. 
To some burdened one impart 
Courage on life's thorny way; 
These shall conquer Time's decay. 
Winnipeg, June 3. 1912. 

243 



M , 



m 

Ml 

4 



I 



SI' 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



HUMILITY. 

Who are the truly great? 
Is he the greatest who from field afar 
Hath come a conqueror in despoiling war? 
He who in gain his fellows hath outclass'd. 
And gold his only thought, hath wealth amass'd, 
Or he whom hand of genius, guiding, kind. 
To all else but the lust of power blind 

Hath ruled a party or controU'd a state? 



Oh, no ! far greater he. 
Where'er his feet have led, whate'er his lot. 
If fame or fortune smiled, hath not forgot 
How small the greatest are, and taken heed 
Of this life's little things; whose every deed 
Hath shed some brightness o'er the path he trod ; 
Who, taught by Nature, and by Nature's God, 
Hath learned the lesson of Humility. 

Hyires, Jan. 8, 1912. 



344 



CHARirv 



f\ 



CHARITY. 

The silver trumpet tongues of men 

And of the angels fair, 
Are naught to me if Charity 

Be not enkindled there. 
Like tinkling cymbals' echo, 

Like din of sounding brass. 
The loveless deeds of empty creeds 

Shall wither as the grass. 



i 



And what tho' I be rich endow'd 

With the prophetic gift. 
And such supply of faith that I 

Could the vast mountains lift. 
All mystery and knowledge 

Be subject to my will. 
And yet do move devoid of love. 

Then am I nothing still. 



I 



345 



I; 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 

And tho' I lavish all I have 

To give the needy fcxjd, 
And tho' my frame by conquering flame 

To ashes be subdued. 
It profiteth me nothing 

Unless I fully find 
That priceless thing long suffering, 

Unenvying and kind. 

That is not puffed up with pride 

Nor prone to idle vaunt. 
That seeketh not her own, begot 

Of no unseemly flaunt. 
Not easily provoked to wrath, 

That maketh truth her choice, 
That thinks no sin, that doth not in 

Iniquity rejoice. 

Bearing, believing, hoping all. 

Enduring everything. 
She never fails, m drought assails 

Her pure perennial spring. 
Tho' prophecies and tongues shall cease 

And knowledge fade away. 
Her kindly light glows ever bright 

Shining to perfect day. 

246 




i 



shrim:s old and new 

Ami tho' I lavish all [ linve 

Tu give the needy fij<..l 
And tlu)' my frame by conjurniiK fl.itue 

To ashes lie suhdued. 
It pruliteth me nothing 

Unless I fully find 
That priceless thing long suffering, 

Unenvying and kind. 



Th.it is not puffed np with pride 

Xo^ prone to idle vaunt, 
That secketh not her own, begot 

Of no utiseenily flaunt. 
\ot fa.^dy pr, . ^t-d t. yxM 

That makefl; rruth her .hohiv 
That 'liiiiks I... f>n, '.hit dotK rioi m 

Inii|nity ri-ioi.c 



Be.iritijj, lielicving, hoping all. 

Enduring ever)thing. 
She never tails, no drought assails 

Her pure perennial spring. 
TIkj' iirophfcies .md tongues sl.;dl cease 

And knowledge fade away. 
Her kindly light glow- ever bright 

Shining to [Krt'ect d.ny 



246 




N ^ 






\4i 



I* 



CHARITY 

And when that which is perfect comes, 

The part shall be dispersed 
Of knowledge and of prophecy, 

For we are children first; 
Spoke, understood, and thought as such. 

But, grown to man's estate, 
All childish things on fleeting wings 

Fade and disintegrate. 



t 



Now, darkly, thro' a glass we see. 

And mists our view displace, 
Then poor mankind, no longer blind. 

Shall behold face to face. 
Now knowledge only doth unroll 

In part her golden zone. 
Then high and low each one shall know 

Even as they are known. 






While firm the cross of Faith abides, 

While Hope's strong anchor holds. 
And each to man its glorious plan 

Of saving grace unfolds; 
Yet far the greatest and the best 

Of these fair graces three. 
That fount of love drawn from above 

The heart of Charity! 

Ancasitr, August, I9u. 






249 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



THE CHILD AND THE MOTOR. 

On hearing that a child had been killed by a motor 
in a country lane in Buckinghamshire. 

A Iitt]e life crushed out, 

A happy family wrecked. 
The country-side is stirred! 
The funeral dirge is heard. 
A quiet home is wrapped in gloom 

That wealth may go unchecked 
In riot and in rout. 



Seven short unclouded years 

Were all vouchsafed to thee. 
And then the fates deny 
That thou shouldst peaceful die, 
A rumbling sound, a mortal wound. 

And then the agony 
Of mother's scalding tears. 



350 







1 

i 




THE C IILD AND THE MOTOR 






'^lij- ;;fc-;Jood ebbs away 

Dfar little ctiild! and you 
,ieid up you:: gentle soul, 

j'. ■' Jc'.h's sad knell must toll 

In order that the plutocrat 
May ruthlessly pursue 

His lordly holiday! 


v«- 


or 


England, tell me! ought 
Thy vaunted equal laws 
'Tween man and man, ordain 
That shady country lane 
Where children play, be given away 

To sate the greedy maws 
Of modem Juggernaut? 

BltUMey, Bucks, 

July 11, igti. 


.1 
\ 

'A 
1 

i 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



THE POETS' CORNER. 
In Westminster Abbey. 

O hallow'd place! Here are our bards at rest; 

And, as my feet wind 'mong thy pedestals, 

A thought surpassing sweet the spot recalls. 
Not England's sons alone, we of the West 
Are too by thy divine aroma blest. 

And share th' influence shrined within thy walls; 

These lives, these tombs, these carv'd memorials, 
By us are honor'd, worshipp'd, and caress'd 
And every '^row-encircl'd laureate 

Whose mortal clay hath mingled with thy dead. 
From Chaucer, glorious and of ancient date. 

To Tennyson, so well belov'd and read : 
O'er the whole world doth each disseminate 

The fragrance with which thou'rt environed. 

London, Eng., Oct. i}, igii. 



2sa 



HENRY LABOUCHERE 



HENRY LABOUCHERE. 

Great Commoner! how many gifts were thine! 

Thy part well played in days gone by. Time was 

When many eyes were fixed on thee because 
Though nobly founded thine ancestral line* 
Thou wert the foe of jingoed discipline ; 

Preferring rather to uphold the cause 

Which did not win thy countrymen's applause, 
The one against the ninety and the nine. 
And yet how oft Northampton's trusty men 

Made thee their choice. How often didst thou 
dare 
The fr ,. the usurer, and th^ swindler's den, 

In t'.' " itless page expose and bare. 
But nov ,.iii!> far-off tomb Tuscanian 

Is made thy resting-place; O Labouchere ! 



Florence, March, igi^. 
* The head of the Labouchere family is Baron Taunton. 



aS3. 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 



HARDSHIP. 

Thou school in which the greatest minds are taught, 
Those pupils of the master. Circumstance, 
Offsprings of Destiny and of favoring Chance, 

Say I in our lives is anything for naught? 

Rather is not the path to greatness f rau^t 
With suffering from thy all-pervading glance? 
And Triumph I maid so dilatory, askance 

Is she, forsooth, not through thy channels brought? 

Did not those bars which Bunyan's frame confined 
Refine, and make his soul a greater soul. 
To help men's hopes up to a loftier height ? 

Did Lincoln not in cabin, low outlined, 
Learn well the rugged task of self-control. 
And how to conquer ills, and grasp the infinite? 

Wmnipfg. lunt i, tgu. 



aS4 



) 




SHRINES OLD A.\D NEW 



' 



HARDSHIP. 



Thou school in which the grentest minds are taught, 
Those pupils of the master, Cirrumstance, 
Offsprings of Destiny and of favoring Chance, 

Say! in our Mves is anything for naught? 

I^atlier is not the path to greatticss fraught 
With suffering from thy all-pervading glance? 
Aiifl Triumph* n!,iiii -^o rlil;,t(^r\. a-kmce 

Is she, for.Mrt.th, noi through thy channels brought? 

Did not those bars whi -r P-n-ivnn' f ., ; . ', ...itiiicil 
Rcfme, and ma!.- hi, ,..■,; , ,■_ •■.tu: >.,ijl. 
To help tiien ■■ h. ..«-s up to a loffrr height ? 

Did Lincoln not in cabin, low outhned, 
Le.irn we'l the nigged task of self-control. 

And iiow to conquer ills, and grasp the infinite? 

H'inntpfg, June I, li^is. 



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CHATTERTON 



CHATTERTON. 



Thomu Chatterton, England's child poet, wai born at Bris- 
tol (posthumously) in 1752, of humble parentage, and early 
gave evidence of great precocity of mind. The production, at 
twelve years of age. of the medixval Rowley poems (now 
admitted to have beei? composed by himself), his intimatr 
knowledge of the long-passed romantic period in English 
verse, and the intensity of his imaginative power, have al- 
ways been regarded as the most remarKable display of early 
genius in England's literary annals. Overwhelmed by accusa- 
tions of forgery, and in destitution, obscurity and despair, this 
gifted youth ended his life by poison in London, in August, 
i;70. 



Unhappy boy ! thy ruthless fate 
Did more than amply expiate 

Thy but imputed crime! 
What pangs of disappointed hope 
Made thee a morbid misanthrope 

In youth's bright morning time? 



257 



SHRINES OLD AND NEW 
II. 

Only when death, ere manhood's years 
Had granted thee surcease from tears, 

Were found, alas! too late, 
Thy budding talent, mock'd, despised. 
Thy genius all unrecognized, 

Hope crushed 'neath sorrow's weight I 

m. 

Why wert thou left to pine and brood 
And walk in mental solitude. 

When soi:ie befriending hand 
Had helped thee in thy sore distre- \ 
Had taught thee, lone, companionless, 

The ills of life to stand? 



IV. 

Where else hath childhood deeper wrought ? 
Who hath evolved more mellow'd thought 

Than that which sprang from thee? 
And tho' the gathering floods of scorn 
Early o'erwhelmed thee, thou wert bom 

To immortality! 

Bristol, Stpt. 13, 1911. 



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